


Who You Will See, There in the Darkness

by MirrorandImage



Category: RWBY
Genre: Background OzQrow, Existential Crisis, Gen, How do soul mergers actually work?, Identity Issues, M/M, Oscar tries hard, Ozpin needs therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorandImage/pseuds/MirrorandImage
Summary: [Complete] An exploration in the unending existential crisis that is Oscar, in the unending pain of Ozpin, and how they become Oz. Background OzQrow. Set post Volume 7 - sort of.
Relationships: Ozpin & Oscar Pine
Comments: 31
Kudos: 88





	1. Oscar

The single quality that is shared across every living creature on this planet: is fear.

Oscar understood fear from the moment he stared at himself in a mirror, studying his hair and wondering why it wasn't silver and then hearing, _Oh_ , a thought that was emphatically _not his own_ , followed by, _Hello, I'm Professor Ozpin the headmaster of Beacon Academy…_

He did not have the words for how he felt, what it was like to have thoughts that weren't his popping up in his head, the academic voice using big words and carefully constructed sentences. He was scared he was losing his mind, scared that he was going to attract Grimm, scared he would hurt his aunt. Ozpin was an intruder, could probably see everything Oscar ever thought or dreamed or aspired to while he, Oscar, couldn't see anything of Ozpin.

 _That will happen with time_.

That was _not_ reassuring. He didn't ask for this, didn't ask to have nightmares about some crazy fire lady _completely immolating him_ , feel the ache of needing a cane that he'd never seen before, know the interior of a school he'd never visited. He didn't ask for the voice, Ozpin, to always quietly press the need to go to Haven. He was forced to listen to the situation - the relics were in danger, the schools needed to be protected, Haven was the most likely next target because Lionheart had dropped off all communications. The voice was _inside his head_ , he couldn't ignore it the way he could ignore his aunt or an adult that visited. He couldn't hide in the loft or get lost in chores, because Ozpin was in his very thoughts.

As time went on, and he finally started to process the concept of fairy tales being real, of the legend of the four maidens and the Brothers Grimm, finally concluded that this was, in fact, real, a new fear took its place.

What would happen to him?

Ozpin's answers were always slow, tempered. _The two of us will start to merge, as I did with my predecessor, and he before that, and she before that, and so on for thousands of years. I have been through this many, many times_.

Except that didn't really help, because it didn't explain the hows and whys, would Oscar still be his own person? Or would he disappear? Hearing, _a little of both_ , sounded cagey, insincere, now matter how sincere Ozpin actually sounded. Oscar would wake up in sweat in the dead of winter, desperate to know he was still him, and Ozpin always told him _yes, you are still you_ , and sometimes it helped and sometimes it hurt, and Oscar would ask about Haven just for the _distraction_ of it all.

The danger was frightening.

The idea of people being hurt was frightening.

The idea of _leaving home_ was _terrifying_.

But… in the end… Oscar wanted to help. He had always liked the idea of being a hero like in the books: of being a Hunter that slayed the beasts and brought peace to the land. The idea of doing nothing… especially after his parents… He made himself sick trying to figure out what to do, but ultimately he had made the decision the day he decided to believe he wasn't going crazy.

And as he realized his decision, he realized it was _right_. Not just that it was the right thing to do, but it was _right for him_ , and he wasn't sure if that was him or the other guy, and that was a new layer of fear all together.

Leaving home was a practice in fighting off terror, one step literally at a time. When he reached the main highway, the furthest he had ever gone from the farm, he had to stop and close his eyes, reconcile with what he was doing and go through the litany of reasons and feelings. Ozpin… Oz… he stayed quiet, and Oscar was relieved, crouched down and was almost sick: relieved that he wasn't going to nag or push him on, relieved that he let Oscar make this decision on his own terms. Oscar took a deep shaky breath, and put one foot further than he had ever gone before, and from a place that wasn't him he felt equal parts pride and _burning regret_.

Hazel - though he didn't know the name at the time, was another reminder of the fear: someone from Ozpin's past; if he knew about Oscar Bad Things would happen, be careful be wary, don't be stopped by such an insignificant obstacle. Oscar tried to ask about it on the train, but Ozpin simply said, _All in due time_ , a parent dismissing an overly inquisitive child, and Oscar was still figuring out if he _wanted_ to know the hows and whys or if it was just a sign of his ongoing existential crisis over his inevitable erasure.

Small things bothered him, but the biggest small thing was feeling feelings that weren't his own. The sight of an old man with a red cape on his back in a bar? There was such a swell of _relief, safety, trust, friendship_ he turned around and walked right back out the door, pressed himself against the frame of the building and reminded himself of where and who he was. Ozpin tried to give him space, but Oscar could sense the anxiousness, too, to get his cane back, to talk to the old man, to learn what had happened over the winter. The fact that he could sense it was a new level of fear, because it was another reminder that he was slowly going to be strangled out of his own body.

And gods, his _body_. Getting off the train at Haven had led to Ozpin asking to be taken to a wayward back alley so they could talk.

 _There's something you should know_ , he said, and Oscar was starting to recognize the tone as bearing bad news that couldn't be softened. _We are together now, in equal partnership. There is a not insignificant facet of that partnership that I usually avoid, but given the circumstances it would seem inevitable that this possibility would come up, and now is perhaps the best time to prepare you._

"Prepare me for what?"

… _That there may come a time when I need to… to take over_.

The chills that watered down Oscar shook his entire spine. "What? Just like that? You can just jump in and make me do whatever you want?"

 _It's not a fact that I take pride in - or even engage in, if I have the choice_ , and the voice sounded so hollow, so resigned, but all Oscar could hear was that _even his own body_ wasn't his own.

 _No,_ Ozpin said quickly, _I want to emphasize that before you enter a panic: I will always,_ always _, ask permission, and_ you have the right to say no. _If you reject my asking, then I will not take over. Had I complete say in the circumstances, I would never perform the act, but with the Academies under attack, several people will want to talk to me directly, and I do not find it fair to ask you to be a translator for hours on end. It would be faster for me to answer for myself. But_ only _if you give your consent_.

"I don't," he said, shaking. "I don't give consent to this. I didn't ask for this. I didn't _want_ this…"

Ozpin let it go, retreated to give Oscar space, but he could still feel the old wizard, sense him in a way he couldn't when he had first heard the voice in his head. He stayed in that alley for an hour, fighting himself to come to terms with this new sign that he wasn't going to have a say in his life. He couldn't back out now, not when he had made it all the way to Haven, not when the schools were still in danger, he had to _put a lid on it_ and _get a grip_ , he had to do something to help.

The old man, Qrow, had asked for a table and a bottle to celebrate meeting an old friend, and Oscar could feel sad gladness at the order.

"What's your name, kid?" he'd asked.

"Uhm…" was the intelligent reply.

The old man with a red cape studied him, eyes narrow and bright. "You never talked much about the whole reincarnation thing, Oz," he said as the bottle arrived. "But I remember you saying it took a while before you had permission to talk."

Oscar blinked, rearranging the words. "What… what do you mean by that?"

The old man shrugged. "He only talked about the reincarnation when he brought someone into his circle," he said. "He said sometimes it took a while to make friends with the new guy, and that it took a while before he was allowed to speak."

"... because he needed consent?"

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Something like that."

Ozpin's presence was there and trying not to be, Oscar could feel a held breath - held his own breath unconsciously before he realized what he was doing. He looked down at the cane, still extended. He hadn't let go of it… he'd never seen it before but the sheer _relief_ of it being in his hands again… a thumb was tracing circles at the base of the pommel, and he could almost tell that…

"If I say yes to this," he asked, "Will I come back?"

 _ **Yes**_ , was the emphatic, heartfelt reply.

"Then… okay."

He could almost feel a hand on his shoulder, a squeeze, and then there was a woosh and a sensation of smooshing over and _what's going on why do I suddenly feel so small?_

 _It takes some getting used to,_ Ozpin said, even as he looked at the old man - Qrow - and immediately asked, "Did Miss Nikos survive?"

The conversation was lengthy, and heavy, and Oscar could hear it but not with his ears, he felt surrounded by Ozpin - was this how Ozpin felt all the time? How could he even stand it? And _oh, Miss Xiao Long,_ "I'm so sorry that happened to your nieces. I'm sorry that this happened at all."

"Wasn't your fault, Oz, it was Salem's," Qrow said, looking down at his drink. "My being there didn't help."

"That's not true and you know it," Ozpin was saying, but Oscar wasn't sure how much more he could take feeling so small. He had never had claustrophobia before, but he wondered if that was what it felt like, and he needed _out need to breath want my body back_ and then the _woosh and smoosh_ went in reverse and he gasped and nearly fell out of his chair. Oscar looked down at his hands, moving them on his own, having agency again and _he was actually back_ he almost cried on the spot he wasn't sure he was going to come back and this was all too much and what was going to happen to him and-

A hand placed itself on his shoulder, almost exactly where Ozpin's was when they... When they…

"Hey, hey, kid."

Oscar looked up and Qrow was there, _relief safety trust friendship_ , and as flushed as he was, drunk as he was, he smiled, squeezed the shoulder. "It's okay kid," he said, vowels blurry. "You're in good hands. We'll keep you safe."

That was maybe the first time Oscar thought it would be okay. That things would work out, but he was still so scared of what was going to happen to him. He had to drag Qrow to a house, there were older kids there, and for several days Ozpin would ask for permission to take over, to explain parts of the fairy tale Oscar was living, to help him train his body because they didn't have time in this incarnation, Salem was moving and they all had to be ready. The training started to make some of it real - the other kids didn't hold back on him - didn't even seem to care that he was Oscar Pine, half the time they just called him "professor," Qrow sometimes called him Oz, especially when he woke up at night trying to make sure who he was and wasn't. He could feel Ozpin's regret, the sensation of having been through this over and over but still hating that it had to happen at all, and _that_ was just as scary because that was a pretty specific, nuanced feeling, and that meant the merger was really happening and he was _so scared_.

Ruby was the only one who saw it - tried to help him and he just lashed out, all his anxiety pouring out of him. "I'm… I'm scared. I'm more scared that I've ever been in my life, than I ever thought were possible. I always knew I wanted to be more than a farmhand, but this? Who would ask for this? How can you be so confident? People have tried to kill you! The world's about to go to war all over again! How are you okay with any of this?!" It fell out in a great rush, She listened, and she talked, and he realized they were all afraid, but they were moving forward anyway. She had _lost friends_ , but she could still stand up and fight.

… Could he do any less?

"Hey, Oscar? This isn't going to be easy, but the fact that you're even trying says a lot about you. You're braver than you think."

That was when he started asking questions.

He wasn't… he wasn't going to be just some vehicle for Ozpin. If he was going to be a part of this, really going to be the next incarnation, then he wanted a say in how it was going to happen. He asked Ozpin about Vale, the academies, how students were taught. He tried his absolute _best_ during training, even when he was embarrassed, even when everyone else was so much better. He never felt comfortable giving Ozpin control, but he _was_ getting used to it, and Ozpin… Oz… held true to his word: he always gave control back, gave him space to acclimate to coming back, he answered questions when he could.

Oscar Pine was going to have a role in this fairy tale, more than just being "the next Oz." He could do this.

… he could _do this_.

He saw Lionheart, hunched and twitchy, realized with everyone else just what he had done. His words were hesitant, Cinder's smug indictment of him and his face just full of _regret…_ But he didn't deny anything - he was complicit in murdering Hunters, and he was complicit in there being no students. He was an _adult_ , wasn't he? He was supposed to look out for kids, and he wasn't. He was a failure at his job, and something in Oscar twisted. Ozpin nodded somewhere in his head, he could tell, and he said, _I'll help with your aura_.

Oscar walked up the steps, heard Lionheart try to dismiss him, and he _attacked a child_. Ozpin activated Oscar's aura, and he extended the cane, and he _fought_. Ozpin was at his shoulder, quick instructions, barely words and more sensations, and Oscar. He agreed with Oscar, _Leonardo, what happened to you_ , how could he have fallen so far when he had worked so hard - a Faunus Headmaster, the _First_ Faunus Headmaster, how proud he had been at the accomplishment and now _this_.

Leonardo was muttering to himself, and Oscar could see the change, the shift from dismissal to action, and he realized that he was about to fight a huntsman, a real huntsman, and _oh, what do I do now_?

And, before the fear could take over, Ozpin: _Fight_.

But it all went wrong somehow - Jaune was screaming and Weiss was falling and Ruby was doing… _something_ … before taking a hit and crumpling to the ground. What… how… they were hurt! Ruby was hurt, the one person who saw how scared he was that wasn't fair that wasn't right! He shoved passed the Headmaster, nearly falling down the stairs to get to Ruby, wake her up, get her to do that thing she was doing.

And then: betrayal.

Hazel was there shouting, approaching, cursing Oz's very existence, and Oz, patient up to that point, considerate up to that point, _begged_ to take over, but no, Oscar insisted, "You said I had to fight my battles for myself!" _But this isn't your fight_ , but what does that even mean, _he blames me for what happened_ , then seeing the guy he hated would make everything worse, _he's wounded in a way that cannot be healed,_ but Oscar had to try, he had to help people, that was who whole point-

 _I'm sorry_.

It wasn't a gentle squeeze of a shoulder, it was a brutal shove, and all sense of agency Oscar had built up to that point was completely obliterated. His body moved of its own accord - it was so _fast_ \- and so powerful and the Long Memory felt so _good_ in his hands and Hazel needed to be held back, _keep his focus on me and not the children, this is my fight to bear, Oscar should not suffer for my mistakes, he will have to suffer enough as it is let me spare him at least this much._

Oz was _overwhelming_ , Oscar felt like he was drowning in all the other emotions: _we must keep the relics safe we cannot have them all in one place, I've already learned this the hard way, please_ please _let no one else repeat my mistakes, this is supposed to be a safe place for students Leo, you let your fear take over, I'm so sorry, never should have gotten you involved, you were capable of so much more, Hazel I know your pain, please this won't make it any less, you have to acknowledge she's gone or you'll never grow past it,_ and Oscar could feel the difference in what Oz could do and what _he_ could do. Ozpin was forcing his body past its limit, past his training up to that point, beyond and ahead to what Oscar's body could do in the future. He was fastforwarding to years of training and was Oscar going to be capable of _this_ when he was older but _oh_ even without the sensation of his body he knew Oz was pushing further than he was supposed to and this was going to hurt _so much_.

And then it was over, and the relic, the lamp, was there, and Salem's forces were gone, and Ozpin sighed in palpable relief, and collapsed in on himself, falling out of control and leaving Oscar stumbling back into his own body, desperate for air, out of breath, ready to pass out.

_I'm sorry I did that to you…_

He could barely hear Oz, the presence in his head was weak and thready.

_We have to tell them… to take it… to Atlas…_

It all blurred together in his head, he could barely see straight, but somebody caught him and he finally fainted from the strain.

* * *

Recovery was _wretched_. He was so _tired_ , everything _ached_ , and Ozpin just kept saying _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promised only to take over when you consented and I_ broke that promise _. I'm so sorry._

"Please stop," Oscar moaned. The regret hurt just as bad as his abused body. He rolled over, tried to get comfortable before he drifted off again. Ozpin was quiet again, but his presence never went away like it used to. He would sit up to try and stretch, and there would be silent nudges on what to stretch and how, and he _knew_ Oz was trying to give him space but the space between them had shrunk. Oscar didn't want to hear the I'm sorry's, he didn't want to feel the regret, he wanted to sit in the fact that _he had been shoved out of his own body_ , process it, understand what happened. He felt the hurt, the keen sense of betrayal, and he needed to feel every inch of it before he could listen to Oz' apologies.

Academically, he understood it. He was no match for Hazel physically, he barely had any training, he barely understood how to activate his aura, didn't even have a clue what his semblance was, there was no way he could win that fight.

But he wasn't _trying_ to win a _fight_ , he was _trying_ to talk someone out of their rage. Auntie Em had done that, after his parents... explained that anger brought Grimm just as much as fear. There was a difference in feeling the anger and acting out on it - but he hadn't even gotten the chance to bring that up, barely had the chance to explain that Hazel couldn't blame Oz for his sister's death before Oz just… shoved him aside.

Was that all he was? Someone… some _thing_ … to be shoved aside when it was inconvenient?

 _ **Absolutely not**_ , was the reply. _I meant what I said about consent._

"But I didn't consent," Oscar said.

_I know…_

He held his head in his hands. "I didn't consent…"

_I'm so sorry…_

He tried again, Oscar did, to trust Oz with his body. Small dialogues with Qrow, the giving of directions, but it wasn't the same. It didn't feel good - not that all that wooshing and smooshing ever felt _good_ exactly, but the fear was back now. He was afraid he wouldn't come back, that he would just fade away. Oz asked permission on the train to handle the Grimm and Oscar resolutely said _no way_ , he wanted to do this himself. Agency, that was the word he was looking for. He wanted agency, and he didn't want to lose it to Oz unless it was absolutely necessary.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Oz, it was that he didn't _trust_ Oz. He couldn't put a word to it, during the recovery, had to work through the logic. He'd seen enough of Oz to know he didn't make his decisions lightly, he could sort of sense that his feelings on choice were more than just lip service to get what he wanted out of Oscar, but there were entire pieces about Oz that were off limits, _all in due time_ : Hazel's story wasn't the only one, he could tell that, and there were pieces to the Oz puzzle that didn't fit. Oz learned things the hard way, maybe? Oz had been hurt before… ish? Oz was a good person - Oscar could settle on that - but there was a damage to him, something in him that was broken, and Oscar had seen what broken people could do when their cracks were touched.

He tried to ask about it carefully, but Ozpin shut him down every time. _These are all excellent questions,_ he would say, _and you will receive the answers all in due time. This entire process, as I told Miss Rose, is a strain on everyone involved. For now, I would rather the strain on me rather than you. We have many, many, other concerns right now, and I know some of my answers will be upsetting. Better to wait until we have a chance to breathe_.

"Have you ever had the chance to breathe?"

… _All in due time_.

Oz was just as cagey with the others, too. Oscar couldn't even process the cover story, how much of the truth was there and still somehow all be made to a lie. He asked Qrow ( _relief trust safety friendship_ ) about it as they were packing, if saying so much and so little was a good idea.

"I'll be honest, kid, it wouldn't've been the cover I'd choose," he said, running a hand through his dark hair. "But Oz has a way with these kinds of things, and he's never steered me wrong."

"But how do you know that if he doesn't explain it?"

… Qrow didn't have an answer, frowned and pulled out his flask.

Jinn was the first big clue. Oz was giving his explanation and Oscar _knew it was a lie_. He could sense it all over the sentences: the questions weren't all used up, and he demanded to know what was going on.

 _Knowledge,_ Oz tried to explain, _is a great source of sorrow. I have asked her my questions, and I spent lifetimes coming to terms with what I learned. I wouldn't dream of hurting them the same way_.

Oscar tried to accept that, he did, but Oz wouldn't even let the others carry the lamp, and that was when he realized the old wizard was _scared_ , and _that_ was somehow beyond the pale. The guy in his head was thousands of years old, what was there left to be afraid of? That was the first time he actively started looking through memories - had no idea what he was doing but was trying to figure out why Oz would be so afraid about something that he would _lie_ , the guy who lived and died wanting his students to grow had something he _didn't want to teach them_ and that _wasn't right._

_Stop. Please, Oscar, all in due time._

But no, this wasn't healthy, relationships were built on trust and trust was built on honesty. What was _soooo bad_ that it had to be hidden?

_Please, all in due time. You'll learn all of it, I promise… just let me…_

No, what has you so afraid? So afraid of _us_? You can trust us!

"Do you really think Leo was the first? That I haven't been told those words before?" _That I haven't been betrayed by those who swore absolute fealty to me?_ The pain there was so jagged Oscar almost didn't know what to do, but none of this was right and something had to change and he was scared of the secrets that were being kept, _no please not like this,_ but it all has to come out eventually, _yes, but_ _ **not like this**_ _please on my terms in my own way,_ like I had any say with Hazel? Will you shut me up now like you did then, _please it wasn't like that I was only trying to help I was trying to spare you,_ you're sparing everything! This has to stop! _Not like this!_

"Noooooooo!"

But it was too late, and there was a great cry of pain out of Oscar's mouth, but it wasn't his, and then.. And then…

* * *

Truth. Objective truth.

Oscar watched the fairy tale, saw the Brothers - Dragons - Grimm, watched the terrible curse be placed on him, them, saw his first reincarnation and _he didn't even know his name anymore_ , Ozma just barged in with no idea who his host was and no thought or care, confused and completely ignorant that he had just _shoved the owner of the body aside_ , used that body to go looking for Salem and all the terrible things that followed and _so many lifetimes_ were spent mourning in one body after the next before he learned that his new bodies _actually had souls of their own_ and _ooooh what have I done_ and Oscar jumped as he realized the thought.

The vision ended and Oscar was still locked away, screaming and panicking, the fear he had slowly been putting away now completely renewed in ugly, visceral detail because _he was going to disappear_ and there was _nothing he could do to stop it_. Oz was a _parasite_ , a _succubus_ that ate the lives of his hosts and Oscar _didn't want to go_! _What was he going to do!_

"Meeting you was the worst luck of my life."

Ozpin looked at Qrow, Oscar could see the older man's hurt, and _relief safety trust friendship_ that Oz always felt melted into _self-hatred self-loathing self-worthless-_

"... maybe you're right…"

And he left.

Just like that.

Something deep inside Oscar _shifted_ , and it almost felt like the world tilted and _oh_ , his jaw hurt _so much_ … everything was so empty and everyone was yelling at him and Oscar wanted to yell at him too but Ozpin _wasn't there anymore_. "It… it's like he's locked himself deep inside my head. Our head? _I hate this!_ I want it to _stop_!" Let him have his own body back, let him have agency in his life, let him live! Don't let him disappear, don't let him suffer for that old wizard's mistakes! This wasn't fair! What was he supposed to do!

He didn't know how long he sat in the snow, trying to put himself together again. His head _ached so much_ , and his hands were shaking, and _how long was he going to stay him_? It all bubbled up in a rush, and it wasn't until the old woman said the word Grimm that he thought to pack it all away. His legs could barely take his weight, his jaw was swelling something fierce, and everyone around him either ignored him or gave him dirty looks. He was nothing, he had no value other than a body for the parasite to live in. He was… He was…

"I'm just going to be another one of his lives, aren't I?"

Ruby tried to reassure him, handing him the cane and _oh, why did he feel relief in holding it_ , tried to tell him he was his own person.

"Don't lie to him Ruby. We're better than that."

… He wasn't even allowed to have solace. And that was Ozpin's fault, too.

All he could think about was his approaching erasure, the blizzard whipping around him, and that he was in the back of the party and no one was looking back to see how he was doing. He was invisible to them. He extended the Long Memory and held it, desperate to feel something positive, to stop being so _tired_ , so _numb_ after it all. He hadn't felt this bad since his parents, the feeling of just lying in bed and not wanting to get up. He knew it was bad, he knew he had to do something, anything. He bargained with himself, tried to move even when it took so much work. Everyone left him alone, nobody spoke to him, and after months and months of having a voice in his head he felt muted disquiet. He slept alone, everyone else paired off and Qrow acting as watch. The old woman, Calavera, was the only one who seemed unconcerned with everything that had just been revealed to them.

… He was so envious.

For all his sleep the weight on his shoulders didn't disappear. He was still going to disappear, he was still invisible to the people around him - just a "farm boy," he was still going to suffer for someone else's mistakes. The thought of breakfast nauseated him, he was so _tired_ , tired of not having a say in his life, tired of his ongoing identity crisis, tired of the existential dread of his inevitable erasure.

And then… the Grimm… the Apathy.

The further they drove away the lighter everyone seemed to feel - the girls were more animated, the conversation picked up…

But Oscar was still invisible. And Qrow was still drinking, and then they had to explain it to the others. Oscar dreaded the conversation as everyone had their sandwiches and caught up, laughing and joking. He rubbed the bruise Qrow had given him, could still feel echoes of Oz's self-loathing _maybe you're right_ , and he hated the fact that he knew anything about Oz's state of mind. He wanted to be _himself_ , he didn't want to be _Ozpin_ , but no one seemed to make the distinction. Jaune even seemed to deny his very existence, demanding if he was really Oscar and not that liar, and Jaune was so tall and Oscar was so short and it was all broad shoulders and heavy armor and his toes could barely touch the floor and he was _shaking_ and his head was banging against the wall and he didn't know how to make himself any smaller, how to look more passive to someone so much bigger and with so much more training.

And just like that he was back on his feet, and heavy footsteps were stomping upstairs, and everyone disappeared in the span of a few breaths and Oscar was alone.

Alone…

He took a breath and left himself, drifted through Argus without really seeing it, trying to process… process… he just needed time to _process_ …

"I didn't want this…" he muttered, sitting on steps somewhere, the salty scent of the ocean in the air. He'd never smelled the ocean before, he should have been marveling, drinking everything in, but the only thing in his head was the certitude that he didn't have much time before he was erased and his body was someone else's.

… What could he do? He couldn't _stop it_ , the curse was from a _god_ , and Jinn had shown them how impossible it would be to alter his fate. Salem was still out there, determined to make everyone scared, divide them, prey on their weaknesses, and he was just fourteen years old. He had no comprehension of the enormousness of their task - even with a thousand-year old wizard in his head.

And now the wizard was gone.

And… and Oscar was glad. He was glad Oz was locked away, hiding. He could breathe a little, it felt good to have his head to himself, to have only his feelings to sort through instead of someone else's bleed through or overwhelm him. He thought back to the day he left his home, that one step further than he had ever gone. He had made that choice - Ozpin had _let_ him make that choice, and he had a choice now.

He couldn't stop Oz eating him alive, but…

With Ozpin gone for now, maybe _Oscar_ could do something to change Salem's machinations. He had tried before: trying to talk to Hazel, trying to talk to Leonardo. Maybe there were other people he could talk to - it wasn't like he would be much good in a fight - so maybe that would be his skill. He looked down at his hands. He still had to learn how to fight - he didn't want to be a liability, and that meant he would have to do more than land a lucky punch. He shivered. Farm clothes weren't meant for the cold of Atlas, and didn't Qrow say he'd put some lien into his account before they left Haven?

He had another mental crisis when he bought his clothes: fashion hadn't really been a blip on his radar - boots and suspenders and gloves helped with field work, a scarf in his pocket to wipe sweat, and something to hide the scars on his neck. He'd only really thought about practicality: warmth, tool belt, pouch to keep supplies, a harness for the cane. He made his purchases, and when he changed and saw himself in the mirror he saw…

Elegance. The coat was double breasted - that was the word, right? - with leather shoulder pads and brass studs and stitching.

Oscar wasn't elegant. _Ozpin_ was. The merger was still happening even without the old wizard there.

Yet another nigh-on panic attack later, he reminded himself that this was all going to happen anyway, he had to make the most of it. He had to do his best. The rest of it didn't - well, the rest of it _shouldn't_ matter. He needed to make himself seen, needed everyone outside of Ruby to realize he was _Oscar_ first and not _Ozpin_. Cooking would help, Auntie Em's cooking was one of the few things that brought him out of his depression after his parents. Warm food, maybe a casserole.

When he got back with the ingredients Qrow was passed out on the steps.

Oscar crouched down, touched the older man's shoulder. "Hey," he said, "I can't carry you into the house. You need to wake up."

"Shhut up," the old man said, turning away from him. "Nothing I do mmatters. 'S all pointless. Never did any good…"

Poor guy. He was hurting as much as everyone else. Oscar wondered why Ozpin always felt _relief safety trust friendship_ when he saw this man, what made him so special compared to Leonardo and Glynda and James and… Oscar frowned, who were Glynda and James?

The fear prickled again, and Oscar reminded himself of his decision: he was going to matter. Maybe the smell of food would help Qrow off the steps.

White sauce: cream, milk, butter; onions, spinach, mushrooms, carrots; beans were obligatory for protein, cheese and flour to thicken the sauce, he hated how long it took to hand-make pasta but he put in the effort. It took forever to cut everything up, saute and season - little tricks he'd picked up on the farm: salt, aromatics. He mixed in the pasta and topped it with more cheese before shoving it into the stove, taking a breath. That had felt good - he'd never be as good as his aunt but Ozpin had said that cooking wasn't a skill for his incarnation, and Oscar took pride that there was one thing he could kind of do that Ozpin couldn't. He sat in the main room with a book as he waited for the casserole to cook, wondered what the others would think. Did they know Oz couldn't cook, or would they even care? Jaune wouldn't, he hated Oscar now but maybe Ren… _definitely_ Nora.

He heard a lot of noise outside, stuck his head out and all eyes immediately snapped to him. Uh-oh… what...

"Oscar!"

So many people all of them taller what was going to happ-

And he was buried in hugs. Laughter. Warmth. What…?

They… they had looked for him?

They… they had worried about him?

Oscar wasn't sure his cheeks could get any redder, and he had to explain the cooking - a hot meal after… after looking for him. They had gone looking for him... !

And then Jaune stepped forward. "It's my fault we were all out there in the first place. Oscar, I am _so sorry_ , for earlier. I was way, _way_ out of line, and what I said-"

"No," Oscar found himself saying. "No, it's okay." He took a breath. "These past few days, I've been scared of the same things you were." Stopping Salem, her indestructibility, _Ozpin hiding it all_ , how to move forward. He looked down at his hands again, hands he could move on his own. "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be… me… but I did some thinking." He looked up, tried to make himself clear - he wasn't articulate like Oz, didn't have all those big words, but he worked to make himself clear. "I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left."

If he was going to disappear, he at least wanted what he did to _matter_.

And Jaune smiled, soft in a way that Oscar had never seen directed at him. "Good," he said, voice watery. "This team isn't the same without you, Oscar."

And, for the first time in a long, long time, Oscar wasn't afraid.

* * *

Getting out of Argus was… well, there were obstacles. Qrow was still suffering, and Oscar wondered again what he and Ozpin were to each other that they had hurt each other so _badly_ that day in the snow. That lady on the base was a problem, and the plan didn't exactly go perfectly.

But Oscar made decisions. He knew he would be a liability in a fight, so he went with Calavera in the air to try and figure out how that giant mecha worked, letting Ren know when to jump or Weiss know when to go to Ruby. His eyes kept moving, trying to figure out that cannon, and he shared his observa-

"Ruby _move!_ "

Close… that was too close…!

He moved up to the front, buckling in. "We have to keep that mecha busy!"

"My eyes may be gone but my ears aren't," Calavera said, "We're supposed to keep a low profile!"

"I know," Oscar said, "But I think I figured out how to take out that cannon and-no!"

Weiss's summon, holding half the team, took a direct hit from the dust cannon and everyone scattered in the air, a wide arc that landed them back to the edge of the cliff. Except for one. "Ruby!" he shouted, pulling against his seatbelt. He scrambled for the ear piece as Calavera cursed and made a wide arc in front of the mecha. "Ruby, can you hear me? Are you guys okay?" So close, so close, too close…!

" _Are_ we _okay?_ " she demanded.

Oscar winced but explained what he'd learned, and Calavera picked up Ruby, and they made their assault by-

"Hey, Cordo! I've got one missile left and I know exactly where I'm gonna stick it!"

Oscar blinked, shocked to hear such language. And then the mecha opened _all_ of its missiles.

" _Are you two_ _ **crazy**_ _?_ " he demanded.

"Sometimes the best approach is simply the most direct!"

_Why was he surrounded by crazy people?_

He didn't even have time to breath, Ruby made the shot and it missed, it _missed_ , and then there was the crackle of dust and " _Pull up!_ " but it wasn't fast enough the shock riddled through the entire ship and Calavera was groaning and there were sparks and smoke _what was happening_?! "My eyes! I can't see!" No, no, nononono, "Take the controls!"

Oscar was panicking, he didn't know how to fly a ship, he hands were on the yoke but he had no idea what he was doing and he couldn't read the screens they were all blinking in and out and there were two other people on the ship he couldn't let them down but _nothing was responding_ what was he going to do, "We're gonna crash! _We're gonna crash!_ "

And then,

_Stay calm. It's going to be okay._

Soft words, but strong, too. The authority of an adult, a parent, and there was a nudge on his wrist, the sensation of how to use the steering yoke, and Oscar moved to the suggestions.

He held his breath, waited for the hand on his shoulder, the smooshing, but then there were trees and dirt and his body pitched in every which way and for a second he needed to understand up from down. They'd crashed. They'd crashed! But… but...

"We're…" He looked at his hand, watched it move under his own power. "We're still in one piece?"

Oz…?

_It's exactly as Miss Rose said, you're braver than you think you are._

And then he was gone again.

Oscar looked inside, tried to find the presence, but it was locked away again, in that dark chamber, and he closed his eyes and tried again. Oz… Oz… are you watching? Why are you watching?

Silence.

… What was he supposed to do with that? How was he supposed to respond to that? Why did Oz do that? He tried to think back, tried to remember passed his own terror to what Oz had been feeling when he suddenly popped up. What had the old wizard been feeling…? Guidance - he didn't take over, he just sort of nudged. He was so _calm_ in the face of the crash, the assurance had washed over Oscar enough so that he could think. And then, at the end…

_It's exactly as Miss Rose said, you're braver than you think you are._

Was that… there had been a softness to the voice, Oscar almost thought he could remember feeling a pat on his arm - not a hand on the shoulder, that was a sign of being taken over - but a gentle pressure… encouragement? Oz was… trying to encourage him? Why? Was it because he… cared?

He dreaded telling the others, wasn't sure if they would want to hear it. But… he wasn't Oz, and he wasn't going to lie.

He tried to be clear: "He guided me." Didn't take control, didn't shove him aside, didn't smoosh him into a corner. "And then he was gone again."

He was a little afraid to look up, JNR was full of shocked expressions, Blake looked like she didn't know how to react, and Yang immediately closed herself off. "Does that mean he's been watching us the whole time?" she asked, voice low, accusatory.

"... I don't know," he answered, eyes darting at everyone. "But… at least this means he was looking out for us…" Right? That's what he was doing, looking out for them? Mad as he was at Ozpin for being a parasite… Oz didn't have a choice in this any more than he did, and even with everything that had gone down… Oz was still a good person. Oscar had to focus on that, had to remind himself that the guy who was going to erase him and take over his body wouldn't be some kind of cackling villain. He wasn't Salem, he wasn't the Adam guy that Blake and Yang talked about, he was just…

He had to take solace where he could.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well... after three weeks being stuck at home because of what we've artfully called Coronacation (if we make it funny we can stave off the existential dread) at eh very least we have time to type. Welcome to part one of an eighty page monstrosity of an examination of Oscar and Ozpin. The inspiration: Oscar's tone at the end of volume 7 when he says, "You're back, aren't you..." We read so much resignation there - so let's unpack that!

Heavy influence with the Fear song from the end of the volume, even the title of the fic.

Not much to say for now, just laying groundwork and trying to burn through the earlier volumes because we don't _really_ want to rehash everything, but there are some distinct perspectives that we haven't seen covered in fanfiction yet (and trust us, we've been picking the Oscar and Ozpin tags pretty clean in our desperate need for CONTENT) that tie in to what we're building towards.

For those who don't know us: the fic is completely done and written. Five chapters; they'll go up once a week.

Next chapter: Oscar's agency in Volume 7. See you all in a week!


	2. Part 2: Oscar

Atlas and Mantle were hard to look at. Oscar peeked over the pilot seats, thought about the pictures of the floating city he had seen in his books at the farm, but seeing the two cities brought a wave of aching _nostalgia,_ and without Oz there to blame it on Oscar had to struggle. His eyes roved over the city, the towers of the academies, all the steam from the climate modifiers. It felt so good to see it, that all the working parts and pieces still held together after all these years - wait, what?

After landing in Mantle Oscar's eyes were constantly up: the news announcements and military orders, the warm brick glowing in the orange light of the heating units, neon signs that weren't here when the city was first constructed, he was surprised he didn't trip as his eyes tried to drink in everything. And always he looked up to the sky, the belly of Atlas. People made that, humanity made that!

But then the Grimm came, and Oscar had to take a breath - these were bigger Grimm than on the farm, but not as big as the ones on the train. He had handled himself on the train, he could handle himself here. He shifted his stance, adjusted his grip on the Long Memory, and it was like stepping into well-worn shoes, he knew exactly how far to run to build up a jump, how to twist, and exactly where to strike to break the spine of the beast. It dissolved into dust in seconds, and Oscar felt pride. He had _done_ that! He'd taken out a Grimm on his own, no Oz!

Oh, there was a Grimm rightoverhisheadhowwas-

And it dissolved, too, and Ruby offered an encouraging smile.

But that didn't mean luck was on their side: they were arrested, shoved into a convoy, and driven up to the academy. Oscar knew the main courtyard, and the grand atrium. The halls had gotten new floors, the patterns were different. His eyes were drinking everything in again, and he knew they were heading to the headmaster's office. His back was straightening, and after the cuffs were removed he kept his hands behind his back, looking over the books, wondering where the tea set-he shook his head.

They covered a lot of ground, in that first meeting - Oscar watched the others as they reacted to the headmaster's plans. He wanted to share information with the world, reestablish communications, he wanted to be _honest_ , and that made Oscar feel comfortable. "Trying to hide the truth from the world, will eventually kill us all."

Qrow was unconvinced: "Oz spent his whole life - _many_ lives - keeping this secret."

Oscar looked down.

"I know. But since Beacon, things have changed. Without him here to guide us, all I can do is use my best judgement."

Oscar winced, turning to hide it and touching an arm. They would have to tell him, tell him about the wizard living in his head, and then why he was hiding… The headmaster turned around, already picking up on something.

"What is it?" he asked.

Oscar took a breath, turned to face the headmaster. "Actually," he said, "Oz isn't completely gone." Please be enough, don't make him explain it all…

"Oscar is," Qrow said quickly, "he's the next Ozpin."

Oscar watched the headmaster's face, saw the suspicion change almost immediately to surprise and then _hope_. "Oz…?" He moved in quickly, tall and broad and _was he going to get hit again_ , but the big man crouched down, still talking, "I'm so glad you're here I didn't think-" Oscar hunched up at the advance, was quick to fix the mistake as soon as possible.

"Not quite," he said quickly, and the headmaster stopped. "He's kind of… gone? At the moment?" He held his breath, afraid of how such a big man would react.

"... that's not normal," was the response, "How did he-"

"We don't know," Ruby said.

Oscar held himself very, very still.

"We were in a train crash, and ever since, well, suddenly Oz wasn't there anymore."

Did she just… why did she just… Oscar held his mouth closed, bit the inside of his cheek, watched the headmaster sigh all the way down.

"That's the worst news yet."

And then Ruby lied again, when he asked about the relics, and wasn't this just like Oz? Oscar held his breath, uncertain what to do, afraid to say anything.

"... At least we have you, Oscar. You're safe here in Atlas. Maybe together we can find a way to bring Ozpin back."

And if he didn't want Ozpin back…?

He forced himself to smile. "Thank you sir," he said, but the word tasted bad in his mouth. What was he supposed to say? "Uh, general." _There's no need for formality among friends_ , the memory drifted through Oscar's ears, and he was even more confused. "... Ironwood?"

He still wasn't quite sure how he made it through the conversation, or the exploration of the Academy - after hours - and he found it harder and harder to keep from telling the new girl, Penny, that everything she said sounded like he was hearing it for both the first and previous time. Deja vu, that was the phrase: experiencing something for the first time while simultaneously feeling like one had seen it all before. He felt uncomfortable, and every time he looked at Ruby he could only think of the lies she told. It hurt, a little. After all that work to drag the truth out of Ozpin, and the price they paid for it (and the relief Oscar felt for it), why did they turn around and lie to Ironwood?

He looked for her the next day, agreed to take the relic, but… "Ruby, hiding things from Ironwood… doesn't that feel like what Ozpin did to us?"

She looked down. "I know…" she said. "I'm thinking that, too."

Oscar blinked. "Then why…?"

"It's just… The embargo and the closed borders - it might have been a mistake arresting us but his orders weren't to find out what happened, it was to arrest on sight. His presence is all over Mantle and things aren't really _good_ down there and… He's saying all the right words, he gave us back the relic, but…" She looked up, her silver eyes holding his gaze. "... I don't want to make a mistake," she said.

And… Oscar understood. Mostly. Kind of. He shifted his weight, one foot to the next. "I don't like it," he confessed, "But you're not wrong. I won't say anything."

"Okay."

"And if I do," he added, "I'll tell you, first."

She smiled. "Me, too." A natural pause drew out, Oscar taking the lamp and attaching it to his tool belt. They parted ways with a nod, and Oscar went to the training rooms. If RWBY and JNR were going to the mines, then Oscar better use his time to train.

* * *

It was always a treat to watch RWBY and JNR train, Oscar still marveled that they were together for little more than a year, they moved together so fluidly, could change tactics with little more than a word or a look, and they complimented each other well. It only took the better part of a day to get used to the modifications they'd made to their weapons, and then they were spending the afternoon in pairs working out new attacks. Jaune was working as hard as he could on his aura, and Nora was gleefully getting comfortable with riding her weapon around the space, Ren meditating to work on… something. Oscar trained, too: running around the course, building up stamina in his body, trying to figure out the muscle memory he just… inherited. His height was a huge disadvantage, his body was used to longer legs, further reach, and he had to unlearn things he never learned in order to do them correctly. The others noted that he was learning at an amazing rate, but he was still so far behind, it felt like. It was everything he could do to catch up, and he was always left a little breathless when, after hours in the training room, the others talked about going out dancing and all he wanted to do was crawl to bed.

The teens were off doing missions almost daily, leaving Oscar to his own devices. Mostly he tried to train, but it wasn't long before he got a message from Ironwood.

"I've heard about how hard you're working," he said from his desk at the headmaster's office. Oscar still wondered where the tea set was.

"I have a lot of catching up to do," he said, looking down. "Without Oz, I have to fight for myself. It was something he told me to do…" he trailed off, uncertain what else to say. He was never comfortable with other people at first, it always took a while to feel confident.

"That sounds like him," Ironwood said, voice almost a chuckle. "He always made a show of telling students he wasn't going to help them, that they had to figure it out for themselves."

Oscar looked up. "... Really?"

"Yes," Ironwood said, standing up from his seat, arms automatically folding behind his back. "What he never said was that the environment he put them in were safe places - whatever Grimm existed were never _too_ dangerous, and if things got bad any number of teachers or other failsafes would activate to make sure no one got hurt. His bluster had no bite, he was soft on students. Come on, I want to offer something."

He left the office and Oscar followed, mulling over what Ironwood said about Oz. He couldn't place it at first, until he reworded the information. _Boundaries_. Children developed their best when they understood the boundaries. That was a quote, wasn't it? Yes… Yes! From an old parenting book he'd found in his aunt's bedroom. It must have been back when she first took Oscar home, something about play and boundaries… he couldn't remember the full passage, but that certainly _sounded_ like Oz - the gentle nudges to his hands during the crash, and before that the training in Mistral. Letting Oscar do it himself, helping only when he needed to.

"How long has Ozpin been with you?" Ironwood asked.

"I think, I started noticing something was wrong at the end of autumn," Oscar said. "But it wasn't until spring that he, uh, introduced himself."

"He explained his reincarnations, of course," Ironwood said, "but he never really talked about them. He only really said that they were a strain on everyone involved. But he never mentioned an incarnation completely disappearing. Did he tell you anything while he was with you?"

"We… didn't really talk about past incarnations," Oscar said, looking down. "I was more worried about… about _mine_."

"I suppose that's natural," Ironwood said, a hint of something in his voice. They reached a keypad, Ironwood holding his hand up and making a small gesture before the light pinged. "Well, you might not hear Ozpin anymore, Oscar, but that doesn't mean we can't try and jog him loose."

They were in the training room. What…?

"What did you have in mind?"

Ironwood smiled, spread his feet, and took a fighting stance.

Training? Wait… training with a _headmaster_?

Oscar grinned, and he extended his cane. This was probably the _best_ way to catch up to the others.

* * *

For three days, Oscar would be called to the headmaster's office, escorted to the training room, and then be beaten within an inch of his life. Ironwood was a hard teacher, he pulled no punches whatsoever, and only barely gave Oscar time to recover. Each round ended with the headmaster adjusting Oscar's footing or posture. It helped in some ways, the things Oscar could do in a fight felt more natural, but it was hard in others, because he was so far behind.

The general looked like he was struggling, too, a frown on his face by the end of every training session.

"Nothing yet?" he asked, Oscar panting on the floor.

He shook his head.

Ironwood rubbed his chin, hairs on his beard shifting around his fingers. "Let's try something else," he said, giving a hand out for Oscar to get up.

"Or course, Mr. Ironwood," Oscar said. Even after an hour of fighting, Ironwood had enough strength to pull Oscar up like it was nothing. Would Oscar ever get that good?

"James," Ironwood said. "My friends call me James."

Oh… Oscar flushed a little, surprised that he was friends with an adult. All he could manage was a shy, "... okay."

Iron-James moved back to his office, Oscar following. He retracted the cane and put it on his belt, behind the lamp. He touched it gently, patting it to make sure it was there. In the office, James moved behind his desk and sat down, opening some kind of drawer and pulling out… a bottle of whiskey. Oh, no, another Qrow...

The headmaster poured himself a shot and put the bottle away, downing the glass and leaning back, eyes closed and just... sighing. Oscar waited, not sure why Ir-James had led him back here. His eyes drifted over to the bookcases again, glancing over the titles. Where was the tea set?

"What are you looking for?" the headmaster asked.

Oscar blinked, realizing his thoughts. "At Haven," he started, before shaking his head and trying again. "Before I left, when Oz was trying to convince me he was real, he asked me to describe the headmaster's office at Haven Academy. I could, even though I'd never been there. The part I remembered most was the tea set. I gave it to Leonardo when he made headmaster, but…" he looked down. "Oz did that."

"He gave one to all of us," Iron-James said, standing. He moved across the office to a cabinet. "Each Academy Headmaster got a personalized set when we were elected." He opened the cabinet, rummaged around. "I never really used it," he explained, "I'm not much of a tea drinker. Oz wasn't, either, really, but tea was his second choice."

James turned around, and there was the tea set: rich blue, polished, more square than ovular, with a customized grip and metal spout. The teacups were the inverse, metal with deep blue handles. Oscar moved forward, glad to finally see them. He almost reached out before he caught himself, looked at his hand. "... I know these are his memories," he said, deflating a little. "But I still feel…"

"I understand," James said, voice sensitive. "Are you a tea drinker?"

"Water mostly," Oscar said, sitting down. "Juice if it was in season. We never really had much on the farm. Tea was for when there were guests, or if it was a holiday."

"Well, you're in Atlas now. What would you like?"

Oscar looked up to the headmaster, frowned as he considered the possibilities. "You know…" he said, "In Mistral it was never cold enough for hot chocolate."

Ironwood froze completely, eyes doubling in size.

Oscar frowned, suddenly uncertain if he'd said something wrong. Ironwood recovered, however, and quickly got up to go back to the cabinet. The man didn't say anything, just took the metal and blue cups and poured some kind of power in. Hot chocolate came as a powder? The teapot heated up, and steaming water was poured into each cup, the powder dissolving before milk and two drops of more chocolate were added. Iron-James stirred both cups a deliberate number of times, first one way, then another, before handing a cup over to Oscar. He took it, felt the warmth through his gloves, watched as James went to his desk to add whiskey to his. Ugh, would that even taste good?

James returned, sat with Oscar, and lifted his glass. "Cheers," he said, sipping his hot chocolate.

Oscar looked at his, held the cup to his mouth and just savored the steam on his face, breathed in the scent. His lips burned at first, but his first sip was sweet and thick and _smooth_. He felt the heat slide all the way down his esophagus to his stomach. He hummed, took another sip, and then another.

"This is a nice treat," he said, but stopped when he looked up. James was staring at him intently, less a headmaster and more a general, eyes narrow and calculating. "... what?" he asked.

And James sighed again. "Nothing," he said, dejected. "Just… Ozpin loved his hot chocolate."

Oscar blinked. "... Oh," he said, looking down at the cup. The spike of fear was back, but Oscar analyzed it and put it away. Oz may have loved hot chocolate, but Oscar only liked it. It was sweet and hot and thick, but it wasn't an instant love. Oscar would be fine with just his water. He watched James' face, saw the frustration, and lines under his eyes. Maybe they'd better change topics…

"So," Oscar said, putting the chocolate down and shrugging his shoulders. "The election. Who do you think will win?"

James scoffed, took another draw from his spiked drink. "I don't think it matters," he said. "Whoever it is will think they know what's best, and they don't."

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"Experience," James said, looking down at his hot chocolate. "Elections are tricky things, because people don't really care about what the candidate does, just what they say. Voters don't educate themselves on the policies or the political stances or even current events half the time. I have to make announcement after announcement to reassure them or inform them or keep them from starting another riot; Winter, too. Voter's don't always do what's right."

Oscar blinked. "And what's right?"

James snorted, more a derisive exhale than a true laugh. "Not establishing world communications, apparently," he said with a mix of irony and sarcasm in his voice. "Not keeping the people safe when we tell them about Salem."

"But… they don't know any of that," Oscar said. He held his hands to his knees, unsure what to do with them without the hot chocolate. "How can they make an informed decision if the information isn't there?"

James sighed and brought a hand up to the bridge of his nose. The beard couldn't completely hide the grimace, nor the pulse of a vein in his forehead. "... You're right," he said, sounding pained. "Sorry. I know you're right. It's hard sometimes, making decisions like this, making sacrifices." His hands lowered, and he looked at Oscar directly. "Oz isn't here to guide us, so we're all working without a safety net. It's scary sometimes, worrying that you're making a mistake."

"Well…" Oscar said, playing with his hands. "It's okay to make mistakes. Then you get to learn from them."

"Not on this scale," James said. "Not when so much is depending on you." He paused, looked like he was about to say more, but he shook it off. "But don't worry," he added quickly. "It will be alright. I'll figure it out."

James downed the rest of his hot chocolate in four massive gulps, breathing through the burn of the whiskey in the drink, before setting his cup down. "You must be tired," he said, getting up. "Let's get you squared away."

Oscar nodded, but on the walk back he wondered why James thought _he_ had to be the one to figure it all out.

* * *

The others all had opinions about the election - Weiss and Nora in particular, and their feelings bled through every time they talked. Oscar knew about Weiss' situation - sort of, there were enough allusions and the reactions of the rest of her team painted a very specific picture - but Nora Oscar didn't quite follow. He tried to ask Ren and Jaune, but Ren always seemed to turn the question around and Jaune was just as in the dark. Still, they trained, and for every step forward Oscar made they made a minimum of two. They were evolving, growing, and Oscar was just trying to keep up.

Every day they disappeared for their huntsmen work, and every day James tried something else to lure out Ozpin. The hot chocolate, the training, but also books, supposedly written by an old incarnation, or walking down to a _very_ secure room to see an old woman on a bed that Oscar didn't know. James didn't explain, not about the old woman at least, and every attempt left him a little more frustrated.

The people were frustrated, too. Oscar listened to the students cursing out the people of Mantle not understanding anything, and the girls would come back with many a story about Mantle's suffering and discontent. Ruby mentioned a woman she and Qrow met on one of the convoys, and nobody was talking to each other.

Then it was time to vote.

And that was when tragedy struck.

Oscar was sitting in Jame's office, drinking tea and deciding if he liked it or not - it wasn't a Mistral flavor, but it was rich without being bitter - when the news on Jacques Schnee's election was interrupted for tragedy down in Mantle. Oscar and James watched, transfixed, as the reporters tried to describe what happened as a dozen alerts went off on James' scroll. He was on the scroll for over an hour, giving clipped orders, ordering troops below, demanding Dr. Polladina explain what happened with Penny, ordering Winter to get a press release ready, and already fielding calls from the other council members. He cursed, motioned to throw his scroll before he thought better of it, controlled the impulse.

Nobody felt good, and Grimm took advantage of that. The teams would come back ragged and exhausted, and Oscar didn't know what he could do to help them.

James summoned him again, and he said he had something to show him.

… Another attempt to bring out Ozpin. Oscar wondered if he was really friends with James, or if he was just saying that to get the person he _really_ wanted to talk to.

Into the elevator they went, James hitting a button that opened a separate control panel that required yet another layer of verification. The elevator shifted and went down… down… down…

"Where are we going?"

"To see Oz's greatest gift to Atlas," James said. There were dark bags under his eyes.

The elevator shaft just… disappeared… and suddenly it wasn't an elevator but a platform lowering even further - how deep were they going? Were they going to reach the bottom of Atlas? And then _whoa_ …

Everything was calm blues, bright almost to white and creating massive, black shadows. Rocks and crystals seemed to just _emerge_ from the darkness, and they walked a long, narrow platform to an edge. Beyond was another door, accessible only by…

Oscar stiffened. "I feel like I know this place," he said, hazel eyes drinking everything in. "This is… this is the maiden's chamber."

"Very good," James said. He jutted his chin to the far door, the yawning chasm between them and it. "It's right behind that door."

Oscar marveled. "The staff of creation…" What did it look like, he wondered. What could it do? The name implied so much… was someone living in it like Jinn lived in the lamp?

James was looking at him again, that intense scrutiny.

"I hoped… bringing you down here might jog some memories," he confessed, looking up to the locked chamber. "After all, it was your idea to use the staff to lift Atlas off the ground."

… What? "I thought… gravity dust kept Atlas afloat."

"That's the public story."

What? Another secret?

"But with the staff we have a constant seemingly limitless energy source." James walked further down the platform, arms always behind his back. Pride was in his voice, pride over his country, over his city, over a maiden chamber. "Ozma speculated it could take us as high as we wanted. To tell you the truth, that served as the inspiration for the Amity Project. Get a communication tower up in the sky, higher than the Grimm can survive, so we can never lose contact with each other again…" James looked down, something in his voice changing, the pride bleeding away and turning into… Oscar couldn't name it.

"But," he said instead, "you're not using the staff to raise Amity." Wouldn't that be easier than digging through old mines, taking supplies from Mantle, causing all the _problems_?

"The staff can only be used for one purpose at a time," James said, his voice back to normal. "We're going to have to do Amity the old fashioned way, dust and all."

Oscar's eyes lifted up to the far away door again, felt the silence of the space, the weight of what was in there. "It feels strange," he admitted, "knowing that part of me came up with all this." This was before Ozpin, a different incarnation, someone Oscar never heard of.

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure," James said, voice reassuring. Oscar's eyes drifted to the big man's back, the broad shoulders. "Eventually, you won't even know who's who anymore."

And just like that it all came back: the erasure, the lack of control over what was going to happen to him, suffering for the other guy's mistakes. Instead of reassurance, Oscar felt the spike of fear, the one thing he hadn't shed when Oz disappeared. He looked down, working through the emotion as fast as possible. All he could manage was a soft, "… Right…" in response.

James sighed, the noise pulling Oscar out of his thoughts. "We… didn't always see eye to eye," the headmaster confessed, "but… I wish I could ask Ozpin what he thought of all this."

… That was why he was trying so hard to pull Ozpin out, to hear the reassurance that he was doing the right thing. Oscar didn't realize adults craved that as much as kids. He couldn't tell James what he wanted to hear, but...

"Well… I can tell you what _I_ think," he said. He wanted to be reassuring, but he didn't want to lie either. He saw what the others saw, heard how Blake said James sometimes echoed someone else she knew, saw how frustrated Nora was when she came back from Mantle, he saw how hard Ruby was trying to do the right thing. He couldn't do any less. "The path you're heading down, the one where you're the only one with all the answers… where you do the thing you think is right no matter the cost… It's not going to take you anywhere good."

No one person had all the answers, that had been Oz's greatest failure, to let people think that he did when he was just as lost as everyone else. Oscar hadn't gotten as far as he had without the help and training of other people, the reassurance of Ruby and the bitter honesty of Qrow - even Yang's anger and Jaune's accusations had pushed him. And before that, his parents, Aunt Em; it took a village to raise a child, and it took a country to build an Atlas. No one person, not even Oz, could accomplish that. Greatness came from unity and-

The headmaster didn't like what he heard, his face hardening. "We have to stop Salem," James said, voice hard and turning away from Oscar, from the chamber. "Nothing matters more."

" _Some_ things matter more, I think," Oscar said, nervous but forcing himself to say it anyway. The general was trying _so hard_ , and he needed to see... "Keeping our humanity… It's… what makes us different from her."

James paused, processing the words. "… Sometimes I worry that's her greatest advantage," he said, moving again to the lift. "Without humanity… Does she still feel fear? Does she ever hesitate?" Oscar blinked, recognizing what he was hearing. "When Salem hit Beacon, even with all my ships, with all of my soldiers, I was no match for her. I've never felt so helpless. The way she… told me she was there."

Oh, _James_ … he was just as afraid as everyone else. All the ships, all the soldiers, it was all to protect himself from ever feeling vulnerable again. Oscar knew that pain, had to work through it after Haven, _I didn't consent_ , wanted to know about Ozpin in case it ever happened again. But Oscar was still there, still making decisions, still _trying_. He was afraid ever since Oz introduced himself in his own head, fought with it every day - even just now, _you won't even know who's who anymore_ , knowing he was going to be erased. Compassion swelled in Oscar, and he tried to give comfort.

"It's okay to be afraid," he said. James turned. "You just can't let that fear control you."

His response was derision: "I am _not_ going to end up like Lionheart."

Oscar winced. Had he pushed too far?

Then, "… Do you believe in me?" James asked, his voice small, quiet.

… Without Oz, he was looking for solace where he could get it. Oscar wasn't sure he could give what James wanted: absolution for everything he was doing, but he didn't want to reject the headmaster either. Like Oscar, he was making his own decisions, uncertain if they were right, but doing his best anyway. Oscar could understand that, but he couldn't let the man's fear go. He had to understand that other people could help him, and that he didn't have to have every answer.

"I do believe in you," Oscar said, walking to the lift. "But… not only you." He turned to face James. "I think the best thing you could do, is sit down and talk with the people you're most afraid to."

James was staring at him again, tired eyes wide. He chuckled. "Now you _are_ starting to sound like him."

He got onto the lift. "Who are you thinking of, exactly?"

"The Council, I guess," Oscar said. "You talk a lot about how they get in the way, but would they get in the way if they knew what you were doing? Or would they help you? Or maybe that woman RWBY talked about, Hill, I think her name was? They say her only priority is making sure Mantle is safe - that's a noble goal, and that implies she's a good person."

"Still always seeing the best in people," James said, amused.

"Well, what made you trust Weiss' sister? Or Penny?" Oscar asked. "Or the Ace Ops?"

"Loyalty," James said without missing a beat.

"And what makes you think the Council is any less loyal?"

"Oscar, they have their own agenda."

"But is that agenda set in stone?" Oscar asked. "Would their priorities shift when they learned what you were doing? Did your priorities shift when Oz… brought you in?"

James was chuckling again, shaking his head. "Keep talking," he said, amused, "And soon _I_ won't know the difference."

Oscar winced.

* * *

At the office Winter and Penny were there, Winter pacing up and down. An invitation, to General Ironwood, to a soiree held at the Schnee manor. Winter was cursing, and Penny was confused but concerned. James… James aged ten years as he read the missive, his entire body tensing, pressure seeming to build in his body. Oscar was quickly dismissed, and he watched James walk into his office.

Oscar was worried, he'd _just_ counseled him to come out into the open, "on his terms. Ironwood's going to be locked in a room at his rival's own dinner party. I know Jacques says he's 'happy to moderate,' but all that really means is he'll be the one controlling the conversation."

Oh…

_Please, on my own terms, not like this…_

Oscar blinked, remembering the struggle in the snow, fighting over Oz's secrets and letting people in. Something in him twinged, and for the first time he felt… he wasn't sure what the word was - they had done the right thing, they had the right to know, the secrets shouldn't have been kept - but he understood, now, how upset Oz was that this was being dragged - no, ripped - out of him. Oscar felt - was bad the right word? Regret, that was closer. He regretted that it had all come to that, that that was the only way the truth would come out.

And then, one traitorous thought: _how often did Oz feel that way? How often did he do something he didn't feel good about?_ Oscar shuddered as he and the others piled into the cars.

"You okay, kid?"

Oscar looked up, saw Qrow looking at him from the other side of the seat, Clover next to him on his scroll.

"Just…" Oscar frowned, tried to find the right words. "Ironwood wants to tell everyone the truth but he's also keeping so much quiet until the time is right. I was wondering… if he did the same thing…" And they were doing the same thing with James, keeping what they learned locked away until it was the right time… were they really any different?

Qrow's face fell, he reached into his shirt but paused, and nothing came out.

"That's the difference I guess," Qrow said, turning to look out a window. "Oz had lifetime after lifetime to come clean, and he never did. He didn't trust anyone."

Oscar frowned, looking down at his hands. "... he would have trusted me…" he whispered, making and unmaking fists. He had to, because he was going to take over Oscar's body. What did that say about… about anything?

The soiree itself was unlike anything Oscar had ever seen, and he was very aware that he was a farm boy as they climbed out of the car to a massive - this was a _house_? - building. He stuck to the back, taking his cues from the others, afraid of drawing attention to himself. Weiss was a natural, and the others seemed to know what the protocol was. Oscar kept a plate in his hand, stared at the utterly _tiny_ little pastry and tried to figure out if this was supposed to be a meal or not. It tasted rich and heavy for something so small. The teams made their plans, and Oscar watched the sheer artistry of JNR as they created a diversion to let Weiss into the upper floors of the house. It almost fell apart, but instead worked even more brilliantly.

After that there wasn't really much to do, and Oscar didn't know any of the guests. Ruby and the others were with their teams, and sometimes that was a little intimidating - they were so close, and had gone through so much together, sometimes Oscar had a hard time connecting to them. He knew Ruby would give him time but he didn't want to monopolize her.

"Hey, pup, why are you standing in a corner by yourself?"

Oscar looked up to see one of the Ace Ops, the faunus… Marrow?

"Uh, sorry," he said quickly. "I've never been to a party like this."

The operative sniffed. "Lucky for you you lasted this long," he said, tail swishing behind him. "We always have to cover something like this during election season." The tail drooped. "I usually like the Mantle ones better."

Oscar looked up. "Really? Why?"

"They're more real," Marrow answered. "All of this," he gestured, "It's a stage. Everyone's posing in their fancy clothes and fancy foods talking about their fancy lives. They all want to prove they're the best player in a game that doesn't even matter. They're all so different in their own homes. Down in Mantle, they don't play that game. They're just themselves, and it's ugly and it's a powder keg, but at least it's genuine. At least… it was…"

The faunus looked away, and only then did Oscar remember that Marrow had been the one on the footage of the election party massacre.

"Hey," he said, making the faunus turn and look down at him. "I'm sorry… that you had to go through that."

Green eyes widened, and he quickly turned away. "Like I need some kid giving me sympathy," he said gruffly, but his tail was wagging, and Oscar smiled.

"Marrow."

The two looked over as Clover moved swiftly up to them, the other two flanking him.

"Sir!"

"We have a problem," he said. "Take your scroll off silence, look at the news feeds."

Oscar and Marrow both did, and Oscar stared at his scroll. The heat had been shut down? Riots in the streets? Burning _fire dust?_ And now a Grimm invasion? Marrow emitted a low growl, and Oscar looked up to see the four operatives exchange a glance. "Get ready to mobilize," Clover ordered. "Whatever our orders this is going to be a long night. I'll go inform the general."

"Wait, I'll go with you."

"Try and keep up, kid," Clover said, and Oscar was forced to run to keep up with the bigger man's strides. He opened the doors to the meeting with both hands. "General," he announced, "The Grimm are all over Mantle. The air fleet is doing everything they can, but they can't easily target them in the city without risking casualties."

Oscar saw Ironwood's face when it hit him, saw his blue eyes widen and a hand reach up to cover his mouth, the grimace. "This…" he muttered, turning away, "This is what I was afraid would happen."

"Sir. We need ground support now."

"What we _need_ is to start evacuating Mantle," said a blond woman. "If it's completely overrun it's not going to be safe anywhere! Use the fleet to get-"

"If I use the fleet then Atlas is vulnerable!" Ironwood shouted, standing in the corner of the room, literally cornered. Then the energy left him in a rush, Oscar watched his shoulders slump, his head dip. The military posture was gone, and so was the confidence, and so was the hope. "I… I tried to keep the kingdom safe," he said, voice almost broken. "And now we're losing _everything_."

This was it, then. James' worst fears had come to pass. It had all fallen apart, but that meant now it could be rebuilt. Oscar… he had faced his worst fears with Jinn - he knew exactly what was going to happen to him now, but… he was still trying. James needed to, too.

"General?" he asked softly, walking up to the big man. "Earlier, you asked for my advice."

James was still holding his head, hand pressed to the wall, the picture of defeat. "I wanted _Ozpin's_ advice."

That hurt. In some ways he was still invisible. Oscar pressed on, though. Ironwood needed to hear this. "… His advice probably would have been to keep your secrets. But when we first got here you already knew that wasn't the right course. You had a new plan."

"It's time to give up on that plan," James said, straightening. "It's all falling apart."

No, it wasn't. Believing in people didn't fall apart, helping people didn't fall apart. "The panic you were worried about? It's already happening," Oscar said. "The secrets you're keeping, they're about to be in the open anyway. It's time." Don't run away from the disaster, don't hide and never come out. Accept that it's happening, meet it, make it your own. Oscar was trying to do that, he was trying to make being the next Oz worth something, make his time before he was erased _matter_. Ironwood - James - he could do the same. "Tell the truth."

"You're not alone," Ruby said, moving up to stand beside Oscar. "We can do this together."

James looked between the two of them, eyes wide as he absorbed the words. Slowly, a weak smile peaked through his beard, something almost like relief ghosting over his face. "Hmm," he said, nodding his head. "Thank you." He turned. "Oscar, I think it's time you get back to the Academy."

Oscar nodded. "I think you're right."

"Miss Hill. Councilman Sleet, Councilwoman Camilla. There are some things you need to know about. Let's figure out how we can help Mantle. Together."

"I've called a transport."

"What about Watts and Tyrian?"

" _Leave them to me._ Right now you're needed down below."

"Alright everybody. It's time to do our jobs. All of us."

"What she said. Let's make it happen, huntsman!"

They all moved out, Oscar swelling with pride over Ironwood - James - making the right decision. He stood up to his fear, and he faced what he had been avoiding. He had grown, and that meant he was ready. Ready for the truth.

But wait, he'd promised Ruby…

"Oscar?"

Perfect timing! He turned around, and they started talking at the same time, all awkward pauses and Oscar really wanted to get it out before she disappeared to fight-

"I think we should tell Ironwood!"

Oh, she said it, too! They laughed.

"I guess we're on the same page, huh?"

Oscar smiled. "I guess so. He's finally choosing the truth over fear." And that mattered, that mattered _so much_. "We should do the same."

"I'll tell him," Ruby said, rubbing an arm. "I'm the one who chose to keep it from him in the first place."

"Ruby! Transport's leaving!"

Oscar smiled. "I think you're needed elsewhere."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I've got it." He gave a thumbs up.

* * *

He wasn't allowed back into the room of course, Ironwood was reading in the Council on Salem and the Grimm and the people she controlled. He watched Jacques Schnee be hauled off, smiled when he saw the cuffs. He didn't know everything, but he suspected Weiss would have been very happy to see that. The meeting dragged on, and Oscar sat beside the door, scroll out and watching the news over the Grimm invasion of Mantle. Mostly it was about the air transports and the designated landing zones for evacuation of the city. There weren't a lot of cameras out, most of them above, but he did see smoke and the small blasts of ammunition. It took awhile for the cameras to finally get to the Landing Zones.

He also kept his comm open, but he kept the volume down. The last thing he needed was the extra adrenaline of the fight down below. It was more important for him to be calm when he talked to James. It was… well, it was a lot to take in. Oscar and the others had days, weeks, to process everything they learned, and now Oscar had to be strong enough to share it with James in a way that he wouldn't break.

The two council members stepped out as if in a daze, the blond following with a shocked expression on her face. Oscar stood, dusting himself off, turned and entered the impromptu council room.

"Oscar? You're still here?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, suddenly nervous. "I wanted… well, we _all_ wanted, to tell you something when we first got here, but everything was so, so all over the place, and we didn't know who to trust." He looked down, took a seat. Oscar took a breath, felt a spike of anxiety. It was so much to take in, but he closed his eyes and reminded himself: James chose to face his fear, and he chose the truth. "We know why Oz is gone."

"What?" James said, straightening. "You _know_? Then what…?"

"It's… it's kind of our fault," Oscar said. "After Haven, I realized that Ozpin was hiding things from us. I could… I could feel it." He gestured vaguely, trying to explain. Then he patted the lamp. "The relic, it can answer questions, and Oz said all the questions were all used up, but they weren't."

He looked up, saw James was very still, eyes wide, bracing himself for the news.

"... How much did he tell you about Salem?" Oscar asked.

"Oscar…" James took a breath. "He said what he always said when someone was brought in, that she had lived as long as he, that she had some control of the Grimm, that she sought to end humanity. Why? What did you learn?"

He took a deep breath. "That she can't be killed."

Silence.

Oscar looked up, saw James staring, color literally draining out of his face. The bags under his eyes were more defined, the lines on his face harder, making him look older. "No," he whispered, frowning. "That can't be right… She… can't be killed…" His gaze snapped to Oscar. "Jinn told you this?"

He held Ironwood's gaze. "She showed us when we asked what Oz was hiding."

James was shell shocked, face an open book as he struggled to understand what he had been told. Oscar wondered if he, they, all had that face in the vision, as they realized just how much had been hidden from them. Pain flickered in Oscar's heart, he was sad that Ironwood had to learn all of this.

"Why…" he started to ask. "Why would Oz keep this from us? From the people who trusted him?"

Oscar knew the answer to this, and he reached out and placed his hand on the table. "He was worried you would lose hope," he said, keeping his voice soft. He had felt those feelings, had felt them long before the confrontation with Jinn in the snow. Oz always wanted people to be at their best, always wanted to spare pain when he could - even when he shouldn't. Oscar hadn't been ready for those feelings, needed to work through his own before he could accept them. Without Oz in his head, he finally had time to process, to understand his own mind before he could look to Oz's. Oscar didn't _agree_ with Oz's choice, but he could now say he understood it.

"We're sorry we kept it from you, too," he said, looking down. "We didn't know who to trust. I figured… you should know before you make any…" he looked up, saw that James was turned away, hand covering his mouth again. He was so pale, he looked like he was about to be sick; the news was rocking him, it was shaking him down to his very core. For a moment Oscar was almost scared, scared he had told him too soon. "... sacrifices." Oscar worried, suddenly wondering if he had done the right thing.

"...Sir?" he asked. "What are you going to do?" Was he okay? Would he be okay?

"I…" James couldn't find the words, and Oscar felt nothing but empathy. He was determined to be there for James, help him as Oscar himself hadn't been helped. He didn't blame Qrow and the others, they had been hurt just as much by Oz's secrets, perhaps more, and all of their inroads were with each other, not with him. Oscar had figured it out for himself, and the others had come around, too. He could still make decisions, and he decided, in that moment, to make sure James would be okay.

Ironwood took a deep breath, long and heavy. "All we can do for the moment is what we can to save Mantle. That's what's in front of us."

… Good. He was still facing his fear. Oscar smiled. "… He'd be proud of you," he said, reassuring his friend. "You're bringing the hope that Atlas was meant to inspire. A city in the sky is held to a higher standard."

James frowned at him, still so _pale_ , so _haggard_. "You say that… like you were th-" His scroll beeped, and he looked at the alert. "Our transports are here. We should move."

Oscar nodded, got up and started to walk out of the meeting room. He frowned, knowing what Ironwood was about to say. His erasure was still happening, and he wondered how much time he would have left. No, he had to keep making decisions, he had to help his friend.

"Oscar." He turned, saw Ironwood still in his seat. For such a big man he looked so… vulnerable. "No more surprises, alright?" he asked, tone slightly plaintive and so, so tired. He tried for a laugh: "I'm not sure I could take it."

Oscar smiled. "… you and me both," he said. "But you know, even if there are more surprises, we can handle it. Together."

"I… I can't argue with that," James said, standing. He followed Oscar out of the meeting room. "Miss Hill, if you would come with me. We're going to set a trap while we fly to the broadcast station. Councilman Sleet, Councilwoman Camilla, I need people to oversee the evacuation and set up triage centers at the academy. It's past time we showed Mantle our best."

* * *

The Academy was buzzing with activity as Oscar made it to the dorm he shared with JNR. He kept the relic on his toolbelt, scroll out and watched the feeds. It was the better part of an hour or two before he saw Ironwood and the woman, Hill, make their broadcast, and they explained everything: Salem, the communication tower, how to rally, don't give up, we won't be divided. Oscar felt so much pride he didn't know what to do with himself, energy was humming inside him, excitement that finally, _finally_ , something good had happened. It didn't matter that it was well after midnight, Oscar was bouncing in his seat, then on his feet, just so _happy_ with what James had done.

The media was an absolute _buzz_ with the conference, James' and the woman's - Hill's - faces plastered all over the screen, discussing the Mantle woman's Semblance, the Amity Project, completely unable to understand Salem and trying to process it live in front of everyone. Oscar kept it on mute, focused instead on Ironwood's face as he gave the news, the smile on Hill's face, and oh, he was positively _bursting_ with pride.

Penny was on screen, too, her green energy beams easy to pick out as the continuing coverage of the evacuation of Mantle was covered, some kind of giant Grimm killed by its own tusks. He caught a glimpse of Janue leading civilians with Ren, and Nora was at a landing zone with her giant hammer, he even caught a glimpse of Qrow and Clover on a roof, coordinating teams. It was amazing, seeing them work in action, even in the broken images of an incomplete news feed. He couldn't keep still, risked ticking the volume up on his ear piece - he could make out the random cries of aggression: Yang's district trill, Nora's exuberant cries, Jaune's shouted orders came in loud and clear. He looked at the clock, realized how late it was and knew he should probably go to bed, but too much was happening and he didn't want to miss anything. Something _good_ was happening, something _positive_ , and he wanted to glory in it even if only by proxy.

Well, well after Ironwood's press conference there was a knock on the door. Oscar looked, surprised, and glanced at the clock. That late, or rather, that early?

He opened the door. A woman was there in Academy uniform, jet black hair and bright green eyes.

She didn't say anything, just stared at him, a small smirk on her face.

"... can I help you?" he asked.

Then she sucker punched him.

Air rushed out of his lungs in one great rush, and he crumpled to the ground. The academy student stepped over him as he gasped for air, calm as you please, and closed the door behind her. Oscar rolled over, still trying to get _air_ , and he saw her look around the room, lifting the blankets of the bunk, then the mattress. She pulled out one bed and then another, popping open storage drawers, pulling out the few clothes JNR had packed with them. Oscar coughed, tried to _breathe_ , he needed to _breathe_ , and finally he was able to suck some air into his lungs. The girl turned, eyes narrow and she walked over, crouching down.

"What… what do you want?" Oscar asked.

His answer was a punch to his jaw and then a kick to his side. His aura activated, fighting to help him recover from the blows, and she felt hands on his person. The girl-what? She had changed somehow, was now all pinks and browns and whites-she put a hand on his chest, slid it under his coat, around his belt. She pulled out his cane _no please don't take the cane_ , studied and and shrugged, tossing it aside. Oscar was flailing, grabbing at her small hands and trying to figure out what she was even _doing_. A hand touched the relic and _oh no, oh no, ohnononononononono._

"Please open this door. Sensors indicated heart rates above recommended levels for sleeping. Please submit to inspection."

"Help!" Oscar shouted. "Help!" He'd managed to grab the girl's wrist, she was trying to pry the relic away but he refused to let go, tried to curl his legs around her ankles, keep her in place. He had no idea what he was doing, his body was working on semi-instinct, he just knew she _could not get the relic._

The door slid open, two security machines came in. The girl looked up, her pink and brown eyes wide for a second, before she smiled. An umbrella was in her hand, she leveled it at one of the robots, and Oscar heard a click before that was an explosion, the sound of shattering glass, a whoosh of _heat fire burning metal weight._

He was dazed, laying on the ground, coughing from the smoke and wondering what even _happened_. He could hear sparks, something heavy was on him, and his aura was working overtime to handle the dust-oh, the girl had used fire dusts, shot from the umbrella. Stupid, _stupid_ Oscar, what was all that training even for? Cursing, he reached for his hip but the relic wasn't there. Damn. _Damn!_ He crawled to the far side of the room, wrapping a fist around his cane and _oh_ , a rush of confidence filled him.

He got to his feet, stumbled out the room and saw the pink-white-brown girl skipping down the hall, the lamp at her hip.

"Hey!" he shouted, ran after her.

She turned, eyes wide for a split second before she frowned, crossing her arms. She scoffed, and Oscar had closed enough distance that he tried to grab her arm, but the girl spun around, faster than he could process, and stabbed at his side with her umbrella, sending him slamming into the hallway wall. He grunted, fought through the bruise, got back to his feet and gave chase again.

"Hey! Come back!" he shouted again, pumping his legs for a full dash, aura still running to heal him. He was going to need _so much more_ training after this…

She shook her head, face shouting _tut, tut_ , and simply ran. The halls were all the same, maze like, and with the new floors Oscar had trouble keeping himself oriented. The ringing in his ears from the explosion was going away, he could hear something going on on the comms, but he couldn't focus on it as he was chasing the girl. His body was heavy - it wasn't used to exercising and using aura at the same time, he felt like he was doing twice the workout, and he was regretting all the motion he was doing while watching the news feeds.

Twice, he caught up enough that he thought he could catch her, but twice it turned out that she was giving him time to catch up so she could hit him again. Oscar was able to dodge the first time, but his body couldn't comply fast enough for the second and he got a heeled boot to his side. That was three kicks now he'd taken there, and he could only get up and give chase again. He knew he was slowing down, his aura sapping his energy, and the girl knew it, too, she was _toying_ with him. She turned a corner, out of sight.

"Oscar? Oscar!"

Was that… Nora?

He turned and just saw - _himself?_ \- smirk at him and turn another corner. No, no, they wouldn't know, he had to tell them!

" _Noo_!" he shouted, turning a corner, sliding slightly, and sprinting as far as his legs could carry him, lifted his arm for a punch. Nora was there, looking at him in utter shock, and he was able to land a hit on his double, the sound of glass shattering as the illusion disappeared and the pink-white-brown girl appeared.

The lamp clattered to the ground, and he scooped it up and _oh_ , it was safe again, he was so relieved.

"This crazy girl showed up and attacked me," he explained. "But, she looked like someone else."

All of JNR was there, and all of them were grim faced. "Neo Politan," Nora hissed as the girl lifted her umbrella.

Oscar blinked. "You _know_ her?"

"We haven't exactly heard good things," Jaune said, sword up and ready. "Give up," he said to Politan. "We've got you outnumbered."

Her response was to extend a blade from the tip of her umbrella.

"... Alright then," Nora said, firing two shells. Oscar grabbed the Long Memory and extended it. He took a deep breath, waiting for his chance as Ren and Nora made their assault. Politan simply smirked, tackled both of them quickly and efficiently. Oscar worried about his chances, but he had to try, and he led with a strike from his cane. She simply looped her arm around his, and he didn't really understand it at first, only that everything was spinning and then he was up in the air - he heard the lamp detach and he spun around wildly, finding it in air with him. Muscle memory took over, his eyes narrowing focus and lunging… right… _now!_ He got the lamp to loop around the shaft of the Long Memory and landed heavily on his feet, gripping both sides so the relic wouldn't slide off. He was _not_ losing the relic again! Politan was having none of _that_ however, advanced on him aggressively and Oscar quickly gave ground, eyes wide and trying to track what the pink-white-brown girl was doing.

Then Jaune was there, shield up, and gave a burst of gravity dust, letting Oscar breathe enough to reattach the relic to his belt - _securely_ , this time. He looked up and saw her eyes on Ren and Nora, and Oscar took advantage, launching himself down and grabbing her feet. She looked surprised, but she once again disappeared into shattered glass.

"What?"

"Where'd she go."

Oscar didn't know, and honestly he didn't _care_ , the ground felt _so good_ right now, he was out of breath and struggling to get it under control. His aura was still working overtime - once this was over he was going to train and get his body used to doing both at once. How did the others make it look so _easy_?

"Freeze!"

"We gotta move!"

Jaune and the others took off and a sprint, and Oscar gulped a deep breath as he pushed himself to follow.

"What's going on?" Oscar asked. "They're security aren't they?"

"Wrong kind of security," Nora said, spinning around a corner.

"Ironwood declared martial law," Jaune said quickly, over his shoulder. "He's abandoning Mantle and arresting us!"

He was _what_? What happened? What happened to trusting others, truth over fear? Had the fight in Mantle gone that badly and the news didn't say?

"Hurry! We gotta lose them!"

Oscar fought to keep up with them, he really did, he was pushing as far as he could, but between the fight in his quarters the the exploded security robots and the chase through the halls and all the _kicks to his side_ , he felt like he was on his last legs. The others were so much _taller_ , their strides were longer and more efficient, and Oscar had to work twice as hard to cover half the distance. The other three would stop at an intersection, and just when Oscar was starting to catch up they would turn and run past him, leaving him struggling to change directions and then catch up again. They clipped around corners so _fast_ , and Oscar was losing track of where he was, the new tiles on the floors were distracting him and he wasn't sure how the patterns were supposed to show him where to go like the first designs did and-where'd they go?

Oscar stopped, eyes wide, spinning around. "Guys?"

"They went this way!"

Oh _dust_ -

A hand grabbed him and pulled him into a side hall, narrow and small, and Oscar struggled, afraid it was that glass-umbrella woman again - Politan. He struggled, but the guards chasing them blew by, and the hand let go when it was quiet. He actually breathed a sigh of relief, turned to see who had helped him _what what what-_

His body moved on its own with no instruction, training and muscle memory making him dodge back to avoid the point of the umbrella tip. The girl-! She looked like Nora, red hair, pink clothes, but the eyes were pink and brown, and the smirk was there, and why was she smir-His eyes snapped to Politan's hip, and _oh now she had the relic she grabbed it when she was hiding him what was he going to do-_

His back snapped against the wall and he fell to the floor like a rag doll. No… "No…!"

"Oscar!"

Jaune, back to them both, Politan still in Nora's form running at him full tilt. She was done playing now that she had the relic, she blew by him and then Ren, Oscar couldn't quite follow what happened, still fighting to _catch up_ , but Ren was on the ground, snapping up with a look of horror. Jaune was giving chase, shouting "Stop!" and turning a corner.

"Drop your weapons!"

"Fall back!" Jaune shouted, and they turned and ran again, Oscar pumping one leg in front of the other. The twisted and turned, Ren was falling behind and Nora kept looking back, but Oscar couldn't follow why because he didn't want to lose sight of them again. The more even spread made it easier, and the slowly shifted from one wing of the academy to another.

They ran into a training room, the four of them taking either side of the door, and for a moment there was quiet as they tried to catch their breath. Or rather, they let _Oscar_ catch his breath. He was _beside_ himself, they'd completely lost the Politan girl, how had she disappeared so fast? The lamp was _his_ responsibility, he was supposed to keep it _safe_ , and he _failed_. Shame burned through him.

"I'm sorry…" he gasped, unable to stand being in his own head.

"Don't be," Jaune said, voice gentle, soft. So unlike his voice in Argus.

Ren was equally forgiving, saying, "We weren't ready to become huntsmen." His head was down, had been for a while.

"That's no true," Nora said, trying to be encouraging.

"Then why aren't we holding the relic?" Ren demanded, and Oscar winced because that was _his fault_. "Now Salem has the lamp, Ironwood has the staff, and we. Have. _Nothing!_ "

"Ren," Jaune interrupted, standing to his full height, the stance of a leader. "That's enough."

" _Hello? Anybody there? Can you hear me?_ "

Everyone froze, eyes doubling in size.

"Our scrolls? Doctor!"

" _Haha! Finest mind in all of Atlas!_ "

Oscar closed his eyes, feeling the jubilance of hearing a familiar voice, but… _We. Have. Nothing!_ He grimaced, bent down lower, felt his side burn. He'd failed his responsibility to protect the lamp, how could he make that up to Ren and the others? What was he supposed to do to fix the damage he'd caused? How could he spare them even a little bit of pain?

_Ironwood declared martial law._

His eyes snapped open. His second responsibility. James. Maybe he could stop...

His feet were moving before he had even finished the thought, knowing what he had to do. He had to _try_ , he had to do his _best_. He might have lost the lamp, but he might save the staff, he might get James to see reason. He had gotten through to him once, surely he could again? James was his _friend_ , he owed it to the man to at least _try_.

" _Oscar?_ " Jaune, on the comm. " _Oscar!_ "

Oscar lifted a hand to his ear piece. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you all need to go on without me."

" _What are you talking about?_ "

"There's something I have to do alone," he answered, and he switched off the comm, pulling out his scroll and pulling up the recording of the group chat. He ran past a clock, realized it was probably sunrise outside, and scrolled through the chat, looking for what Jaune had said.

_Ironwood's declaring martial law and abandoning Mantle! Salem is coming and he's going to use the staff to move Atlas! If we don't stop him now Mantle's going to be des-_

Oh, James… what happened to make you so scared?

Oscar made it to the headmaster's office unmolested, blinked when he saw the atrium an _absolute wreck_ , the Ace Ops - the _Ace Ops?_? - tied up on the floor, only just beginning to stir. Then he smiled, that was Team RWBY, without a doubt. He moved to the elevator, frowned to remember how to get the secondary access panel, and punched in the code - the day James joined Oz's circle - the day that meant the most to him, the day he knew he had _made it._

The lift started to descend, and only then did Oscar realize he was shaking. His body was soaked in sweat from all the running, his side was still hurting, aura trying to fix the damage. If James had chosen fear… moving Atlas was _drastic_ , arresting RWBY and JNR and everyone else was _drastic_ , what would he do if Oscar tried to change his mind?

No, he couldn't think like that, that was _fear_ talking, and Oscar knew how to work past fear. He had to teach James that.

But he was still shaking.

He extended the Long Memory again, adjusted the height so it worked with his small frame. He aligned his feet and rested his hands on the pommel, and _oh_ , that felt so much better. The posture, the stance, he felt something almost like relief descend over his spine. The anxiety didn't go away, but he felt calmer, he could take a controlled breath now, inhale through his nose and out of his mouth. He did it again, and again, eyes closed and just breathing, hoping that James would see reason. He was vulnerable, something had made him vulnerable, and more than anything else he needed compassion, understanding.

He could hear James saying something as he descended, watched the man turn and realize who was joining him in the maiden's chamber. He stepped forward.

"And… whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?" he asked.

Oscar realized how he must have looked, cane extended, walking toward him. He sighed, sad. "... Still just me," he said.

He saw James blink slowly, accepting the words. "… It was smart of you, not to bring the lamp down here," he said, and Oscar held in a wince. "I wouldn't trust me either, right now."

And that was the problem, wasn't it. After all the secrets, all the rage directed at James from Mantle and everyone else, he felt like nobody trusted him. Even Oscar and the others, they weren't sure if he could be trusted when they first got here - Ruby was afraid to make a mistake, but they were all trying their best. James had earned their trust earlier that night, but he hadn't seen it. Had fallen back to old habits. That's what Oscar was hoping to fix.

"Trust," he said, "is what I'm hoping to fix. I know we can still figure this out, all of it, together." He waited, searched James' face. "Please," he asked, softly.

His response was incredulity: "Do you intend to fight me?"

Oscar shook his head. "No. That's exactly what _she_ wants." He looked down at the Long Memory, his complicated relationship to it. "I guess it's because of Oz," he said, holding it up, "but… Holding it helps calm me down, when I'm afraid." He retracted the shaft, put it away. He had to show James he wasn't afraid, not of him, not of their friendship. He had to give James faith, show him trust, for it to be rewarded in kind. He needed empathy.

"You still think I'm afraid." It was an accusation.

"We all are," Oscar confessed. "It's what we do in our fear that reveals-"

" _That's easy for you to say!_ " James shouted, voice echoing and bouncing off the shadowed walls of the chamber. Oscar flinched at the volume, and James moved in, taking aggressive, predatory steps forward. "You can label me whatever you'd like," he said, Oscar backing up, "but the fact of the matter is _I was right_. The _minute_ I softened, let my guard down, _that's_ when Salem had her opening."

"If you abandon Mantle," Oscar countered, trying to burst through his friend's fear, trying to push past the overreaction and to the real James, the one who wanted to protect everyone, who inspired such devout loyalty, the one who did not give in to fear, "you abandon our best chance at reuniting the world, you abandon Remnant, leaving millions to fend for themselves so a few can survive, what kind of-"

"All excellent philosophical points," James said, bitter and sarcastic, rolling his eyes, "that _won't matter_ , if Salem wins!"

"Listen to me!" Oscar begged, trying to get through.

"No, _you_ listen," James commanded, voice still so aggressive. He was still advancing, pushing Oscar back, he was so _big_ , broad and muscular, even with his arm bandaged and bound to his core, he was intimidating. "I'm _done_ letting others' inability to see the big picture get in the way of doing what's _right_. Robin. The Council. This kingdom. Even _you_."

His fear… his fear had taken control. He had given into it, and he was too afraid to even listen. Oscar was sad, so _sad_ , that it had come to this.

"… then you're as dangerous as she is, James."

James looked down, thinking for a brief moment. Oscar held his breath. "James," he said, "is what my friends call me." He looked at Oscar, and his eyes were devoid of anything. "To you, it's General."

He fired.

The bullet struck Oscar where he had been kicked so many times, and the combination of the recoil and the flare of his aura knocked him back. Then his aura broke.

And he fell.

Dead eyes watched him.

* * *

He… he'd failed.

He lost the relic. And he lost James. He'd failed.

He didn't know what to do anymore. He was just… so tired...

_Oscar_.

His eyes snapped open. Oz?

He looked around, tried to make out details in the dark. There, the cane, the Long Memory. He changed his angle, reached, tried to angle his descent. A fist wrapped around it, and he held it close, let the calm fill him as he extended it to its full reach. He could still remember the relief he felt when he held it for the first time, when Qrow had tossed it to him. He knew it has served him well, for as long as he could remember, and something settled over his mind, as his muscle memory pressed the lever. The gears turning soothed him, the old, familiar warmth pulsing through his hands and slowly into the depths of his body. He wasn't even aware of falling anymore, all he was aware of was the Long Memory, and his minds were full of _memories_ , unlocking one by one by one, and somehow… somehow… _he knew…_

His eyes snapped open, the _power_ filled him, and he cried out as he spun around and _thrust_ , green and pulse and power and perseverance.

Everything smashed.

But he was still falling, this time through the sky. He had burst through the outer shell of Atlas, and now Mantle and the tundra spread out below him. He took a breath, placed the cane behind him, certain he could do this on his own now. He reached deep inside of himself, and he could feel a presence at his shoulder, something like a warm embrace, bequeathing strength.

He cried out again, _pulse power perseverance_ , and the green orb surrounded him again, cushioned his fall. It was still crackling, giving him an odd buzzing sensation, and he straightened.

"That power… these memories…"

His reprieve was over.

"You're back, aren't you?" he asked. The thought of him mattering was gone now, the idea of him trying his best, of owning what he was becoming, was erased the way he was going to be erased. "You saved me."

Oz had taken over, hadn't he. Kept him alive for the next part of the plan he didn't have.

Oscar sighed, resigned to all of his fears.

_Actually_ … and there was a gentle smile in the voice, pride, _You saved us_.

Oscar looked up to the sky, heard a rumble of thunder.

_Oscar, I…_

"Stop," he said. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to hear the sorrys, didn't want to hear the self hatred and regret, didn't want to hear the excuses. If Oz was here, he was going to use him just as much as Oz would eventually use him. "All I want to know, is how to save Atlas next."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are we the only ones who see the fact that Oscar associates more with the adults than the other kids? A side effect of having an old man living in his head, probably, but we always thought it was interesting that outside of Ruby he mostly interacts with Oz, Qrow, and now Ironwood. That's why we don't like the idea of... is it called ORNJ? It's far more likely to us to use that Penny is the new P in JNPR.
> 
> This is a lot ore novelization that we really wanted, but Oscar's scenes were all so good in Volume 7, and all we really ended up doing was adding smaller bits to the front or back of a scene to pad it out, make a point, or pretend we had anything to do with the magnificence of those moments.
> 
> Without Oz in his head we finally get to see what kind of person Oscar is: shy, yes, but also just as compassionate and empathetic as Oz and Ruby, and that gives him a wisdom that people like Ironwood just don't possess. It was nice.
> 
> Highlights for us are the tea set, Qrow in the limo - short as it is - and the idea that Oscar isn't used to fighting and using aura at the same time. He hasn't really run any marathons yet until this sequence, and we played. More on that later, though.
> 
> Next chapter: Ozpin needs therapy. Like, is there anyone in Remnant qualified for the level of intervention this poor guy needs?


	3. Ozpin

The single hardest skill to acquire over the thousands of lifetimes he had was the art of reincarnation. Oz was always a slow learner, but this particular artistry was the hardest and most painful. His primary theory was his state of mind. In order to reincarnate with his new partner, he could not awake with the snap of the fingers, as he had done at first.

(And oh, the number of souls he had hurt beyond repair in the beginning. The number of people who had no idea what had happened and were just shoved aside because he hadn't even been aware they existed…)

Instead, he had to find a way to be asleep, deeply asleep when he passed away. He had noticed this the first time he had passed away of old age - bitter and drunk and trying to forget the gods - but it took awhile for him to realize he was with a new partner. He did not think of them as partners at the time, did not realize they existed yet, only that it took time for his mind to wake to the new body he inhabited. But, once he was aware, he took over just like that. As he began to realize there were _surely_ other souls in the bodies he reincarnated into, he posited that, if he could sleep, he could wake in the bodies slowly and use that time to get to know them.

Theory and practice, however, were two different things. The times he died of old age… well… that was usually him at his worst: mourning, drinking, trying to numb or forget the pain of the curse he had been given and the betrayal he had suffered. Those lives were not spent thinking, and whenever Oz thought about those times in his life he mourned for letting his weaknesses get the best of him. When he _was_ putting his best foot forward, when he _was_ thinking about reincarnations and how to enter a peaceful state upon his death… well, he was putting his best foot forward, and that meant it was simply a matter of time before _she_ found him and dealt with him. More of his lives were cut short than fully lived, and it was another sin on his endless list that he had to reconcile with his new partner when he was reborn.

Eventually, he learned how to lock himself away, how to enter a state of mind that would easily slip into a new body. He called it the place of No Mind, though he never had the circumstance to utter those words aloud. It took even longer for him to learn how to wake slowly, assess his new partner, and introduce himself.

And even _longer_ , before he could enter that state in the heat of battle.

Waking was always an awkward, uncomfortable experience. He had to acclimate to a new body: a new height, skin color, sometimes gender, weight, age, everything. Always there was retraining his body, realigning his memory, and doing all of this while conversing with his new partner, allowing them to go through the stages of accepting what was happening to them. He could still remember when Oswald awoke in his mind, could still remember the silent panic as he stared in a mirror and couldn't understand why his hair was pale instead of dark, and where the scar of his (second) most recent encounter with _her_ was on his side. He could also remember the other side of that waking, seeing that pale creature staring back in the mirror and thinking, _Oh, it's happened again_.

That had been his first thought, when he looked in the mirror and saw hazel eyes, freckles, a thick bob of hair: _Oh_ , and then, _he's a_ child _._

Regret was an old, bitter, violent friend, and it tore into him as he quickly plastered on a metaphorical smile and introduced himself: _Hello I'm Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy_. It was not the best introduction he had ever given, harried and rushed, because he had to very quickly pull his emotions back before the boy, Oscar, felt all the pain of knowing _he was a child_ , and the gods had dragged a _child_ into Oz's curse. He thought of his own children, his first four, and the many others he'd had over his other lives, and he mourned, because children deserved better than this. Children should not be bound by the sins of a parent, suffer for their parents' mistakes, fight the previous generation's battles. Children should have the privilege of learning and growing and carving out their own identities.

He could remember when Raven confronted him before she left, accusing him of using the academies for grooming children for his personal playthings, bringing up every privilege and bent rule and looks the other way for STRQ's shenanigans and pranks and mischief. She was as wrong as she was right, and he had tried to explain.

"You don't understand, Raven," he had said, "The primary reason for these schools - even beyond the guardianship of the relics, is to train children to be ready."

"To fight you war!"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "To live."

"That's a load of bullsh-"

"In that we disagree," Oz said, lifting a hand to quiet her. Even in her anger she stilled, still bowed to the gentle tone of a headmaster. He stood, moved around his desk, and deliberately kept the Long Memory away from him, to show her he did not want to fight. "The world we live in - even without Salem - is a dark and scary place: Grimm, empty towns and lost villages, sickness, inequality, briggands." She looked away. "There is abuse, broken spirits, crushed souls. Children, above all else, have to learn what the world is they live in, and they have to learn the skills not only to survive in it, but to live. These schools teach them, you, to fight, yes, but they also teach teamwork, communication, camaraderie. Children learn at their own pace, and in their own ways."

He stood in front of her now, hands behind his back - not a military posture but a passive one, nonthreatening. Raven knew how to respond to threats, she did not know how to respond to gentleness.

"Tell me," he asked, "what would be better - to let you and Qrow and the others to do as you wished, run ragged over the school, put your lives in danger repeatedly - or to let you do as you would with permission and a teacher to prevent you from stepping too far, from risking too much? This is a _school_ , and learning comes in all shapes and sizes."

It hadn't been enough, of course, she had still left, unable to handle a world view that wide - she was still locked in the mindset of a bandit, unable to escape the abuse she and Qrow had suffered. She clung to the familiar, instead of accepting the greater.

(Everyone left when they realized Oz was just as human as they were. Who would follow someone on a broken pedestal?)

And that was her choice - what she never understood was that choice was the single greatest virtue that Oz held to. As he saw students or teachers who looked ready to accept a wider view of the world, he made a point to always, _always_ , give them a chance to bow out. He did not have the luxury, and he made a point that others _did_. Others could craft their lives as they saw fit, others could learn and grow as they needed. If they chose to help him, he was grateful, if they didn't, he held them no ill will. It was their choice.

Pyrrha had a choice.

It wasn't a choice that Ozpin wanted to give her - he'd seen the spark, yes, but she was still so _young_ , only seventeen, he wanted to wait, to give her time to still be a child. He'd wanted to give that to her so bad he had to be convinced to offer her the choice early by James and Glynda and Qrow. It wasn't that he didn't understand the timetable, how dangerous it was to be without a functioning maiden, but the teacher in him, the _father_ in him, wanted to give her even that much more time. Even STRQ, as great as they were, he had waited as long as possible.

Even with Pyrrha sitting in his office, talking about fairy tales, leading her into their circle, still Oz hesitated. He had to look to Qrow, see his nod, before he proceeded.

Even when Pyrrha agreed to be the next Maiden, still he tried to give her an out, to give her an informed decision: the transfer is questionable, it might not work, there was the question of the _soul_.

James' suggestion had turned Oz's stomach: transfer the aura of the Maiden to someone else.

"In truth, you inspired the idea," he said, a warm smile on his face. "Imagine, moving from one body to the next, never fearing who the next body belongs to, being able to control who inherits the power."

"You have no idea what you are suggesting," Oz had replied, and it was everything he could do to keep his voice neutral. He didn't _have_ to imagine it, he _lived_ it, knew what it was like to share a soul, to merge with someone else. James spoke of it so casually, without any understanding of what it truly _meant_ , what it was like to _go through_. The others didn't understand either, even Qrow could only sense there was disquiet, not actually pinpoint it. Oz retreated into the deepest corners of his mind that night, reliving trauma after trauma of reincarnation - how many times the other soul just disappeared, how traumatizing it was to wake to a voice in one's head, the identity crisis, the disassociation, the fear, the confusion. Ozpin _did not want_ to inflict that one someone else, and he _did not want_ to inflict it on Miss Nikos.

(She _did_ know what it was like to be on a pedestal, he did not want to place her even higher.)

But still, she chose.

And the world was better for it.

And it killed him a little more to learn she died too soon.

And on days like that he wondered if Raven was right - that he groomed the people he chose.

And he wondered if Hazel was right, and he felt nothing over his students dying.

But still, he tried.

During the tournament, when everything went so horribly wrong, when the broadcast derided his leadership of the academy, when he realized just what _she_ had done… his first thought hadn't been of the relic or the maiden, it had been to _Vale_ , to the people, to the fear and the Grimm that were no doubt in their midst. He had thought nothing of himself, only of sending his Hunters, Qrow and Glynda, to the fray, only of getting James to use his army to protect the people. Their well-being was all that mattered.

The giant dragon Grimm forced his hand, however, and he took the Long Memory to prepare for the worst, but even still, he did not just _collect_ Pyrrha, he simply went to the main courtyard. He stood, waited, did not say anything, did not beckon her, did nothing to even get her attention. She had to _choose_ first, he was not going to use his influence to influence her.

Passivity, some called it. James desperately wanted Oz to use an iron fist, to take action, to always _do_ something. The others, less frequently, asked or hinted or intimated the same thing. It wasn't that Ozpin was passive, necessarily, but rather that he knew that people could and would do the right thing when all else was eliminated. Other Oz's were more aggressive, had more active roles and made bigger decisions, but Ozpin firmly believed in the power of people uniting, and he would rather give them the chance to unite rather than tell them to. It was more valuable by far when people _chose_ to stand up for themselves, it held more weight, more meaning. Ozpin thought his role in this incarnation, the one he chose to have, was to give people a safe environment to make those choices.

Pyrrha saw him, across the battlefield. And she ran to him.

He was so proud of her in that moment, so proud of how she had come to her decision, and so, so, _so sorry_ that it had come to this.

One of her teammates had followed: young Mr. Arc, and he was proud of his development, too, but now they were out of time. Oz took them to the lower levels, straight to Amber, and he didn't have time to reassure Mr. Arc's confusion, as he might have wished to. He could only ask the boy to guard their rear as he booted up the machines, started the process. He gave her one final choice, one last chance to back out, but she got in the pod. Even that was not enough for him, though.

"I need to hear you say it."

"Yes," she said.

"... Thank you, Miss Nikos."

Thank you for being the best of us. Thank you for choosing the safety of others over your own. Thank you for giving consent. Thank you.

He activated the machine, watched the bright aura begin to transfer. And she heard her scream.

(Thank you… and _I'm so sorry_.)

"I'm so sorry..."

He didn't even have time to see if James' ghastly experiment would work, he had played right into Salem's hands, had led her forces straight to the Vault, where the assassin could finish her job. He heard the whoosh a split second before the arrow pierced the glass and pierced poor Amber. The aura broke, the machines died, and he watched the power transfer completely to the assassin.

(He was such a fool. He always made the same mistakes over and over again, and people always suffered for it.)

The Fall Maiden revelled in her power, and Mr. Arc proved to be a true huntsman as well, tried to fight, but this was not a safe environment, and he had so much to still learn, _don't fight_ , and the boy was knocked back almost immediately.

Pyrrha broke out of the chamber, tried to join the fray, but Oz held her back.

"Take Jaune and get out of here. Find Glynda, Ironwood, Qrow! Bring them here right away. The tower _cannot_ fall!"

"But I can help!" she pleaded.

(Oh, what a good girl…)

"No," he said gently. "You'll only get in the way." The power of a maiden was immeasurable, and Oz with his dwindling magic might not be able to hold his footing. But he had to try, had to make up for his latest string of failures. Pyrrha and Jaune would not be added casualties on his conscience.

(Not when he already had so many.)

She took his orders, took Jaune and ran, and Oz spread his feet, lifting the Long Memory.

The assassin accused him of arrogance, but Oz did not bother to correct her. He had not planned for this incarnation to be a headmaster, Ozpin had grown up desperate to be a teacher, to make the world a better place, to help the next generation, and when Oz had joined him it had only reinvigorated the decision. It was happenstance that he became headmaster, but when it was decided he deliberately chose Beacon, Vale, because of the relic it held. Knowledge, Creation, Destruction, Choice, they all had their powers, they all had their nuances, but _choice_ was what Ozpin held most dearly. His entire lifespan was a result of his choices, and Oz's choices, and he wanted choices to matter. He wanted _his_ choices to matter.

The fight was brutal.

Even without training, the assassin knew how to use the power of the Maiden. Most of her attacks were made of glass - the infiltrator of the communication tower, who infused dust into their, her, clothes. That meant the tower was going to fall, and if it did then all communications would cut out across the four kingdoms. There would be fear and panic - all the work for the last eighty years, the last three lifetimes, were going to be undone with Salem's plan, and Oz had to stop it.

He blocked, deflected, did everything he could. His semblance was constantly active, heightening his speed. There were quick strikes, repetitive assaults that she could not block quick enough. Her response every time was more power, as if it were the only thing in the fight that mattered. She was skilled, obviously cunning, but in a fight she was a blunt instrument, just answering with more and more force. Oz knew how to fight that, but the powers of the Maiden were the deciding factor. He might have held to that power, once, but not anymore. He could not answer her power with his, and so he did what he often did in this incarnation: he tried to wait it out.

If the others came, he could rally, spread out her focus, undercut her blunt force, but he had to last that long.

He held off on using his magic for as long as possible, summoning his shield only when he sensed how low his aura was. He had to make his remaining stores last, but soon it was evident that he wasn't going to make it. He mentally withdrew, retreated to the place of No Mind, present only in the moment, accepting everything he had accomplished in this life, everything he had tried, reflected on his small successes:

How many people had graduated, how many people had grown, how many people had changed for the better as he drew out their potential. The smiles of graduation, the giggles in the library as he walked by, the taste of hot chocolate, oatmeal cookies, watching the students run across the grass, a student crying in his office that he counseled.

… Seeing Tai smile for the first time after Raven left. Giving him the job at Signal to give him time to heal.

(Listening to him curse his name when Summer was lost.)

Watching Summer motivate her team, all smiles and energy.

(Wondering what on _Remnant_ she was thinking when she disappeared.)

Seeing all the progress Qrow had made.

(Watching it all fall away as the tragedies piled up.)

The final blow was struck when his aura broke, and it was all _burning melting dying it's fine you've been through this before been burned to death before-_

* * *

And then, _Oh, he's a_ child _._

_Hello, I'm Professor Ozpin, I'm the headmaster of Beacon Academy_.

* * *

… That could have gone better, but Oz unfortunately had a lot of experience in reincarnating, and he knew when to step in and when to step back. Oscar needed time to absorb what was happening to him, and Oz needed time to get to know his new partner. The boy's fear of Oz digging through his head was not unwarranted, but Oz respected his privacy, only asked the occasional question and just… watched.

Oscar was hard working, diligent even with chores he didn't like. His aunt was a wonderful cook, and Oscar had some skill in it as well. He was comfortable with his aunt, but very, _very_ shy around new people, constantly looking down at his hands or feet, never making eye contact. Books littered every spare shelf in his room, as well as downstairs in the house proper. The academic in Oz melted a little, and he had to hide his smiles several times because Oscar didn't understand yet why he would suddenly do so in reaction to Oz. Travel books, adventure stories, fairy tales, almanacs, cookbooks, a treasured diary from a great grandmother, books on gardening and farming, brochures, books on raising children, books on surviving grief-oh.

_I'm sorry_ , he said, _I didn't know tragedy has already struck you._

"Well, you're just a manifestation of it or something, right?"

Oz held in a sigh. _I can assure you I am not, though I certainly understand why you think I am. May I ask what happened, or is it still too recent?_

"Aren't you going to dig through my head anyway?"

Oz couldn't shake his partner's head yet, only sighed and offered a gentle, _No. Your mind is still your own and I will do nothing without your permission._

"Then I permit you to _leave_."

… Being through it all before didn't make it hurt any less. Oz drew on his experience to remind himself how to deal with the rejection. He literally could not go anywhere, and simply had to wait it out.

(How ironic, that the one thing that had cost him the most in his last life was his greatest skill in getting to know this life.)

He told his stories and his fairy tales. Oscar didn't want to listen but he was drawn to the stories regardless. When he woke to Oscar waking to a nightmare - one of his nightmares, he could only give reassurance, the proverbial hand on the back as the boy tried to process someone else's dream. _Relax, it's going to be alright, it was just a dream._

"It was _your_ dream wasn't it?"

_Yes, apparently._

"That's not _fair_. I didn't ask for this, I don't _want_ this!"

_… I didn't either, at first._

"That doesn't _help_."

_… I know. But it's all I can give._

"So that's it, then," Oscar asked. "You're just going to erase me, take over my body, and just tell me you don't want to? Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Oz took a moment to put his thoughts together, to try and articulate what Oscar needed to hear. _That is the nature of curses, I suppose,_ he said _, they are things we do not want or desire, but are thrust upon us regardless, and we must decide in the face of that hardship how we will respond._

Oscar didn't answer, just rolled over and ignored him, as he was wont to do. Oz couldn't blame him, and he ruthlessly put the hurt away. Reincarnation came in stages, and the earliest was simply denial. Oz lost count how many times he was just ignored by his new partner, pretending he didn't exist, openly hostile to his attempts at conversation. It was painful, dehumanizing, and he could remember both sides of it happening, and no matter how much it hurt he _could not blame them_ , because just as Oscar said, _he didn't ask for this_.

Oz spoke only when Oscar was alone, spared him trying to explain his conversations to his aunt. He waited until chores were done, or while getting ready for the day, tried to give Oscar the space he needed to get used to the change. Having said that, he had no idea what had happened after his death at Beacon. He last remembered a Grimm dragon, the assassin entering the Vault - but he did not know how Qrow and Glynda fared, how much of Vale was saved or destroyed, _had his students survived?_

He burned with anxiety over what had happened - he was certain the relic was safe, but there were so many other questions. He tried to contain it, but he knew Mistral, Haven, was next because of the broadcast. Leo was cautious, wouldn't let anything happen, but help needed to be given. Would Qrow hold onto the Long Memory after everything that happened?

Oz asked Oscar every night to leave for Haven, and no matter how calm he kept his voice his very insistence bled into the boy, and he worked himself to a fever trying to figure out what to do. Oz pulled back after that, let his aunt take care of him, regretted hurting him when things had barely even begun.

By spring, Oscar had warily made his decision. He packed his bag, left his note, explained the best he could.

Oz watched him look back at the farm, over and over, shucking his pack higher on his shoulders, psyching himself up for what he was about to do. The headmaster said nothing, held himself back, let Oscar make the choice himself. The boy crouched down, processing yet again what he was doing. Then he stepped further than he ever had before.

Oz held in his pride, Oscar wouldn't want to feel it, but he was _so proud_. That was such a _hard decision_ , but he made it anyway.

(The regret that Oscar even needed to do this _burned through him_ in equal parts.)

* * *

Gretchen Reinhart was a student at Beacon. Proud of being able to get in, happy to show off her semblance, chatty and sociable and extroverted, the picture of young life. She and her team were just learning how to work together, revelling in the idea of naming their attacks while playing cards in the library. It was their second year when it all fell apart - they had survived their first two huntsmen assignments, and were overconfident. They went out beyond the city borders to locate a caravan that was late for arrival, the request coming from a concerned mother who wondered if the Grimm had attacked the entourage. Gretchen followed her team and her teacher into the forests, five huntsmen, to find a troupe of thirteen civilians.

They had found the civilians, but Gretchen's team was not equipped to treat the numerous injured. Travel back to the city was slow, the huntsmen travelling with the party to start were incapacitated, and pain and sickness made the party very attractive to the local monsters.

Eighteen people, only five capable of fighting and required not only to fight but to protect the remaining thirteen.

Gretchen was not the only loss, that day, she and two of her teammates, the entourage huntsmen, and four civilians lost their lives in the battle of attrition. Their teacher was critically injured, and Gretchen's team thought even then that they could still handle it.

"We decided together," the surviving student said, sobbing in Ozpin's office. "We thought we could do it - it was only one day from the city! We thought-we thought-!"

The Reinharts refused a joint ceremony, but the other families accepted, and Ozpin was one of the people who were asked to speak at the service. The Councilmen gave their flowery speeches, the survivors sat pale and haunted in the first row, and it was to them that Ozpin spoke.

"Loss of life is always a tragedy," he said into the microphone. "It doesn't matter the age, it was a life, and to see the end of a life is to see the end of a story. It is in the end of a life that we reflect, and wonder what story those lives told. What lessons did they impart to the people closest to them, what treasures did they open others' eyes to, what breadcrumbs of wisdom did they embody? These lives were cut short, there was more that they could have done, more that they could have accomplished, so many loose ends to their stories that the very act of thinking about it is painful to the very souls of their loved ones.

"The tragedy is overwhelming, and the pain is so sharp as to be unable to see the end of the suffering. These were people, sons and daughters, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins, dear friends, lovers, mentors… _students_. How can one move past something like this?

"It is not the ending that one should dwell on, then," he said, closing his eyes. "The ending is but a chapter in a larger story that spans so many other lives, so many other _lifetimes_ , they contribute to the story of the very World of Remnant. The stories of those we have lost, instead of seeing them as bitterly cut short, we must instead look and see them as the highlights of the society they inhabited: the mother brave enough to move her entire family to a city for a chance at a better life. The artist who made his mark by giving it freely to family and friends to make them smile. The baker who was most satisfied by the smiles of the people he cooked for. For the students who-" he closed his eyes, held in his emotion. "For the students who thought of the safety of others before their own."

" _Liar!_ "

The shock of the noise jolted everyone, people turning in their seats, wiping away their tears to see a giant of a man storming into the service.

"The highlight should be your _failure to protect your own students!_ " the man shouted. " _You're to blame for all of this!_ "

Ozpin blinked, seeing the spitting image of Gretchen, only now a man. Her brother, then, whom she spoke of so fondly. Oh, the pain he must be suffering…

"Mr. Reinhart," he said softly, moving away from the microphone, "I'm so sorry for your-"

"You're the one who killed her!" he shouted, lifting a meaty fist and throwing it. Ozpin dodged to the side, heard the gasps of several of the service-goers.

"Please," he said, "Not here where people are grieving."

The next punch was quicker than the first, and Ozpin could see Glynda moving to intercept. He stopped her with a gesture. Qrow and Raven, newly inducted to his inner circle, looked ready to commit murder, but Ozpin stopped him as well. If this man, Hazel was going to grieve in this way, it was better for the anger to be directed at one person. Ozpin planted his feet, did not move, simply ducked, side to side, back and forth, as Hazel worked through his energy. Long Memory was gripped in his hand, but he would not need it for this. Hazel attacked blindly until his energy was spent, cursing and sobbing. The man eventually spent himself, fell to his knees.

Ozpin crouched down, waited more still, before offering a soft, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

It was, of course, the wrong thing to say. Mr. Reinhart was not interested in _empathy_ , he wanted someone to _blame_ , and with a massive roar he pulled out a crystal of dust and shoved it into his shoulder. Ice spread through the hall, making several people scream and back up even further as Glynda tried to guide them out, and Ozpin's legs were frozen to the floor.

He sighed, and activated his semblance.

Even immobile he could dodge every attack Mr. Reinhart made, and he finally pulled out the Long Memory and with three quick strokes ended the fight, tip of the cane at Hazel's throat before the Branwen twins could even react. Hazel froze, sensing the lethal blow, and he glared hateful daggers at Ozpin.

"If you must direct your anger at me as you process this tragedy, I accept it," Ozpin said. "But I wonder, is this a decision that Gretchen would have appreciated?"

"As if you even _care_ ," Mr. Reinhart growled. "You send children to their _deaths!_ You know _nothing_ of the pain I suffer!"

He had lost four children, before any of them had hit double digits. He had lost wives and brothers, sisters and lovers, the closest of friends, over and over and _over_ again. He had lost Gretchen just as Mr. Reinhart had. Ozpin knew every ounce of the suffering Hazel felt, but the man had proven he would not accept it, and he simply removed the Long Memory when Qrow and Raven came with the cuffs.

Later, after police statements and reports and several hours contemplating a mug of hot chocolate, letting the steam absorb all the grief Oz himself carried, he looked up to see the twins in his office. Raven was staring at him, a thoughtful frown on her face. Qrow, as always, was the spokesman.

"Hey, uh," he said, shifting his weight nervously. "Just wanted to see how… how you were holding up."

Ozpin wasn't sure how to answer, if confessing his hurt or remaining the strong guiding hand was what they needed, which statement would teach them the most.

(Weakness, emotion, was not allowed to exist on the pedestal people placed him on. He was supposed to know everything, including what to say in times like this. Always, he had to think of the needs of others before his own.)

He pervicerated, uncertain what to say. After a moment, Raven simply nodded, turned and left. Qrow lingered, watching as he tried to decide. Ozpin eventually opted to say nothing, simply leaned back in his chair with his chocolate, eyes closed. It was as much of an admission as he was willing to give.

"You know," Qrow said, "That guy was wrong."

He opened his eyes a sliver, saw Qrow had turned to leave but thought better of it.

"If you didn't care, I'd still be the asshole I was when I first came here."

* * *

Seeing Hazel Rainhart in Oscar's periphery was not something he expected, and he warned his partner to be careful. The man had tried to attack him twice more after the service, leaving the city council to exile him from Vale all together.

Oscar didn't understand his immediate caution. That was normal, and all Oz could say was that it was someone from his past. Someone not to be taken lightly.

"But what does that mean?" his partner asked on the train. "Why is he dangerous? What did he do to you?"

… How could Ozpin explain _yet another_ failing of his? Oscar had to come to terms with so much already - he didn't even know the worst of it yet, didn't know how Oz's decision with the God of Light had created the curse to begin with, didn't know Salem couldn't be killed. How could he also point out to Oscar that Ozpin failed his students, failed their families, failed everyone around him? Oscar was still so resistant to the idea of having a different soul in his body, still desperate to get him _out of his head_. He would learn it all eventually, but Oz had to bring it out carefully, one ugly piece at a time, and the more important one he had planned on explaining when they got off the train.

All he could say, all he could offer, in that moment was a soft, _All in due time._

(And it wasn't a lie. Oscar would, indeed, learn all of it. Oz just wanted to entertain the idea of Oscar _accepting_ him for even a few days before that happened.)

He knew his partner wasn't satisfied with the answer, and Oz tried to occupy himself with the next major hurdle of their relationship. If he was lucky, then Qrow at least was in Mistral, linked up with Leo at Haven and preparing their defense. That was assuming he survived Beacon, but Oz had faith in his friend. Even when things were at their worst, still Qrow could find it in him to rally. Meeting Qrow would be… Oz knew his own emotion was going to overtake Oscar if they found him, and he did not want the boy to act as translator while he learned what he needed to about Beacon.

He had to talk about the sharing, about how far it actually extended. He knew Oscar well enough to know the boy would shout when he learned about it, and he guided his partner to an alley to give them a modicum of privacy.

_There may come a time when I need to… to take over._

_It's not a fact that I take pride in - or even engage in, if I have the choice._

Once Oz realized what he was doing to his incarnations, what he had done to his partners before he even understood they existed, he had solemnly vowed to himself that he would _never do it again._

Then he was forced to take over a partner's body in the very next incarnation in order to survive a Grimm attack because his partner didn't yet have the skills to handle it. They had talked for days after that, Oz explaining in the deepest of regret what he had learned about his incarnations and why he had vowed to never take over a partner again.

"That's just stupid, if you hadn't I wouldn't have survived!"

_I would never wish to so callously shove you aside like that._

"Then just wait for me to say yes, we're partners aren't we? That's what you said!"

And for every incarnation thereafter, Oz would inform his host and wait for them to give consent. Some incarnations never gave consent, never allowed him to take over even when it meant survival. Always, it took time to build up that much trust, that much or a relationship. He agonized that things with Oscar had to be so rushed, that he didn't have time to earn the trust of such a huge ask. Already he could feel Oscar's panic, the idea of not even having agency over his own body, and Oz was quick to reassure him.

_I want to emphasize that before you enter a panic: I will always_ , always, _ask permission, and_ you have the right to say no. _If you reject my asking, then I will not take over. Had I complete say in the circumstances, I would never perform the act, but with the Academies under attack, several people will want to talk to me directly, and I do not find it fair to ask you to be a translator for hours on end. It would be faster for me to answer for myself. But only if you give your consent._

"I don't," Oscar said, shaking. "I don't give consent to this. I didn't ask for this. I didn't _want_ this…"

And Oz couldn't blame him. How could he? Who _would_ want this? Oz resigned himself to not having a voice, even to Qrow, and settled himself in the back of Oscar's mind.

* * *

Raven's leaving had nearly broken STRQ. Tai was left suddenly in charge of an infant not even weaned off her mother's milk, Summer was beside herself to learn that a teammate had abandoned them, and Qrow...

Qrow refused to accept his sister had left them.

He scoured Mistral, looking for his sister, to drag her back kicking and screaming if he had to. Oz had tried to dissuade him, tell him that she had made a choice and they had to honor it, but Qrow wouldn't - couldn't - listen. Raven had been one of his few threads of sanity growing up, it was the two of them against the world, against the abuse of the bandit gang they grew up in, where his semblance made him a curse to everyone, and Raven learned to look as strong as possible even as her spirit weakened further and further. To have his own sister turn her back on him, he could not physically comprehend it.

Oz had gotten a message from Qrow to meet him at Haven, and he had left almost immediately - leaving notes and instructions for the newly inducted Glynda as he arranged transport. Leo had no idea that Qrow was even in Mistral, let alone Haven, and had asked what was wrong.

"Hopefully nothing, but I suspect I know where I can find him if he isn't here."

It took two days of bar hopping to find Qrow, surrounded by bottles and slurring at the owner over something unimportant. Oz stepped in, winced as he paid the tab, and dragged Qrow back to lodgings. He slept for sixteen hours, and was an incoherent mess for the next forty eight as his body struggled to eject the toxins of the alcohol he'd ingested. Oz stayed with him, messaging Beacon and Atlas and Shade, meeting with Leo on occasion when his friend asked. But mostly he sat in a chair by Qrow's bed, listened to the disquieting sound of his friend being sick, cleaning up after him when necessary. Oz had had these periods in his lives, times when the betrayal and the abandonment burned through every other emotion he had, and all he could do was sink in and explore the pain, see how far it stretched. Lifetimes were spent, sometimes, in this particular kind of melancholy, and Oz, Ozpin, did not want his friend to fall that far.

"... Wha…?"

Oz looked down to see his friend finally lucid.

"Good afternoon," he said softly.

Red eyes stared at Oz, confused, and Ozpin watched as it all flooded back to him in one great rush.

"Nothing good about it," he said, turning away.

And Oz met him where he was. "It certainly seems that way," he said. "I know how much her leaving hurt me, so I can only guess how it affected you. All the emotions are there: betrayal, abandonment, how could she do it, what went wrong, was it something I said or did, can I possibly make it up to her, or did she never trust me even when I let her in."

"Stop…"

Oz stopped, waited. Qrow didn't say anything.

"... I'm sorry," he said finally, looking away himself and adjusting his glasses. He put a hand on the Long Memory, drew strength from it. "I didn't mean to equate my pain to yours. Whatever feelings I have are manifold reflected back to you. You are suffering. You have the right to those feelings, and it was not my intention to diminish them."

"Stop," Qrow said, his voice stronger. Ozpin turned back, saw red eyes meet his. He was so pale, so _lost_. "I just…" His eyes filled with tears, and Ozpin quickly switched from sitting in a chair to sitting on the bed, placing a hand on Qrow's shoulder as his friend curled into himself and broke.

For three days Oz listened to Qrow, absorbed every guttural sob, every vile curse, every listless moan. He didn't say much, per Qrow's broken request that first day, simply made hot chocolate for himself and black coffee for Qrow. He blocked every attempt Qrow made to leave for another bar, another way to numb his pain. So contained, his semblance led to things like broken coffee makers and leaky windows during thunderstorms. Qrow even tried to fight Oz, hurtling belligerent curses and taking wild swings. He was good enough that Oz needed his semblance to avoid the strikes, but finally Qrow ran out of ideas.

"What are you even doing here?" he asked, leaning against the bureau of the lodgings, coffee in hand.

Ozpin looked up from his messages. "I'm helping a friend," he said simply.

"But _why_ ," Qrow demanded. "Why do you even want me around? Nobody wants me. Not even _Raven_ wants me."

Ozpin answered with unclouded truth. "Because I _do_ want you."

Qrow snapped to attention, eyes doubling in size.

"For someone with a semblance relating to misfortune," Ozpin said, meaning every word, "Meeting you was the best luck of this incarnation. You came to Beacon determined to scam the system, afraid to let anyone in, convinced that you were nothing. But then you met Tai and Summer, and since then you've done nothing but grow. As a hunter, you've saved so many lives as to be innumerable, you helped even more just by focusing your luck on the Grimm. As a person, you continually sacrifice yourself to the good of others, and even in a world that trains hunters to have that nature, it was in you innately.

"And," he said, looking down at his cane. "As a teacher, I couldn't be more proud of you. You've exceeded every challenge that was set for you, and you are a good enough friend that Tai and Summer are worried sick about you. And… as a friend… you've been there for me."

He looked up, met the poleaxed stare of Qrow. "How could I do any less?"

Qrow blinked, and Ozpin noticed his grip on the bureau was ironclad, as if he'd fall over if he let go. The moment hung in the air, Ozpin's word piled between them, and for a split second he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing.

Finally, for the first time in days, Qrow smiled.

* * *

When Oscar entered the bar and Oz saw the tattered red cape and hunched shoulder, his entire being sighed in relief. Qrow was alive, safe, and still trying, still fighting off the melancholy. And there, on the counter, was the _Long Memory it was right there and-_

Oscar turned around and walked right back out, and Oz realized he had let too much of his feelings bled through. He retreated, tried to focus on other things, but Qrow and Long Memory were there, and so many of his questions were about to be answered and he _had to know what happened._

"Okay," Oscar murmured, not to Oz but to himself. "Okay. I can do this. This isn't crazy. I can do this."

Oz nodded, watched as Oscar turned around and fought his social anxiety to initiate conversation with a stranger. Oz held his breath, not wanting to interfere but Qrow was right there.

"Excuse me…" Oscar said, eyes down.

Qrow turned, and stared as Oz's new partner.

"I don't think they allow kids in here, pipsqueak."

_He doesn't realize who we are_ , Ozpin said quickly, anxious. _Tell him you'd like our cane back. He'll know what that means._

"Shut up, I'm getting there," Oscar hissed, and Ozpin caught himself, stepped back, tried to let Oscar take the lead. Qrow was frowning, he always had good instincts. "Uhm," Oscar tried again, looking down, hoping this didn't look crazy. "I'm supposed to tell you… that I'd like my cane back?"

Qrow blinked, eyes wide as the realization dawned on him, and he smiled, nodding to himself, and it was impossible but Ozpin was nearly certain he saw relief on his closest friend's face as the seasoned hunter stood. Oscar stepped back, still so afraid, but Ozpin sent his reassurance. Everything would be fine now.

"Good to see you again, Oz."

He tossed the Long Memory, and Oscar caught it in such a way that it extended, and Oz smiled.

The three of them, (two of them) sat down at a table, Qrow ordering drinks, and asked for Oscar's name. Oz's partner didn't give it, wasn't sure what to do. The boy was so far outside his comfort zone he was lost, and his shyness made him silent. His emotions broke the spell over Ozpin, and he realized that he had pushed too far. As much as he wanted to talk to Qrow, that might not happen tonight, and he wasn't sure Oscar was even comfortable with explaining that to Qrow.

But, then, Qrow never missed anything.

"You never talked much about the whole reincarnation thing, Oz," he said as the bottle arrived. "But I remember you saying it took a while before you had permission to talk."

Ozpin paused, not having realized Qrow remembered that particular detail.

Oscar however, picked up on it right away, their conversation in the alley still fresh in his mind. "What… what do you mean by that?"

Qrow shrugged. "He only talked about the reincarnation when he brought someone into his circle," he said. "He said sometimes it took a while to make friends with the new guy, and that it took a while before he was allowed to speak."

Qrow and Raven both had been incredulous about the idea of reincarnation, had demanded some kind of proof as if Oz was in any place to give it - years into his reincarnation and already merged with Oswald. Raven was obsessed with the idea of living forever - she was not the first nor would she be the last. Qrow, however, had been more interested in the mechanics.

"It is stressful," Ozpin admitted, already aware of the need to let both Branwen's know that other people felt pain, too, and that though the pain might be different it was just as valid. "I need to introduce myself to my new incarnation, give them time to understand just what they've inherited, and by stages make them comfortable with my very presence. Sometimes it's years before I'm allowed to speak."

"What do you mean?" Qrow asked, frowning.

"I mean I'm a new voice in someone's head, utterly foreign to them and ultimately an intruder. My new incarnation has complete control over his body, because I do not want to disrupt their agency more than I already do by merely existing. Some incarnations never adjust to it, and they do not permit me to speak for myself to others until the merger is complete."

"You're silenced, then?" Qrow asked.

"I suppose, in a manner of speaking. It does end, eventually, but I never speak unless I'm given permission."

Qrow frowned for a long time, but Raven asked her next question, and Oz knew these two would be _insatiable_.

Ozpin wondered, now looking through Oscar's eyes, if that conversation hadn't sparked something in Qrow, a similar memory he had not spoken of in all their years knowing each other.

"... because he needed consent?" Oscar asked.

Qrow shrugged his shoulders, and Ozpin knew: the man had been forbidden to speak with the bandits at some point, perhaps as a punishment for his semblance. Oh, _Qrow_ …

"... Something like that."

Oz put his attention on Oscar, wondering if this would be enough. He pulled back as much as he could, did not want to influence Oscar, wanted him to make the decision for himself. But if he said yes...

"If I say yes to this," his partner asked, "Will I come back?"

_**Yes**_ , was the emphatic, heartfelt reply. Oz wanted no misunderstanding. He would not rush this level of trust, nor would he scorn it.

"Then… okay."

Oz put a hand on his partner's shoulder, offering his heartfelt thanks, and traded places. He reassured Oscar that it took some getting used to, split his attention so he could keep Oscar calm and talk him through what was happening while he leveled his new eyes to Qrow and asked his first, burning question:

"Did Miss Nikos survive?"

Qrow settled in to give his report. "No."

Oz managed two conversations simultaneously, sending reassurance and calm to Oscar as he slowly realized how claustrophobic it was to live in a body that wasn't his own, all while listening to the terrible, _terrible_ news about what happened to Beacon. Ships full of Grimm, White Fang massacring terrified victims, taking over Ironwood's ships, and _oh, Miss Xiao Long._

"I'm so sorry that happened to your nieces. I'm sorry that this happened at all.

"Wasn't your fault, Oz," Qrow said, always so quick to absolve Oz of his guilt. "It was Salem's." He looked away. "My being there didn't help."

Ozpin shook his head. "That's not true and you know it," he said, as he felt Oscar's panic finally start to overwhelm him. He didn't have a lot of time. "You need to understand, Qrow, that your misfortune doesn't change the fact that you're being there is the predominant reason why so many people did survive. You being there is why James and Glynda and Barty and everyone else were able to contain the Grimm faster than they would have had you not been there. You focusing your misfortune on the Grimm saved lives, and believing otherwise diminishes you and all the good that you do."

That was all the time he had to say, he had to quickly say, "Oscar needs to come back," before he stepped back and guided Oscar back to being in control. Oscar gasped at being back in control, still a little lost in his panic, and Oz sent what reassurance he could, watched as Qrow had to juggle his reaction to Ozpin's validation and Oscar's sudden reappearance. The old crow reached out and placed a hand on his partner's shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"You're in good hands," Qrow said, "We'll keep you safe."

Oz tried to give Oscar some privacy, but the relief his partner felt was very strong, and Oz smiled in his corner, content that _one thing_ had gone right in this entire debacle. Qrow seemed happy, too, an honest smile crossing his face. "I've missed you, old man," he said. "Don't worry, kid, you've got nobody better looking out for you."

… Oz hoped his friend was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how well it came across there is a subtle difference between Oz and Ozpin, Oz being the litany of reincarnations and Ozpin being his own reincarnation. The two are mostly interchangeable - until they're not.
> 
> Lots of smaller scenes here, Oz's thoughts are significantly more nonlinear than Oscar's, but also little snapshots of what his life was like and what he takes solace in. We can see small signs of Oz's problems, but the big stuff won't come until next chapter.
> 
> "You are the best luck of this incarnation." Oh, Oz... you have no idea how those words will come back...


	4. Part 4: Ozpin

Meeting the students was the second time Oscar allowed Oz control. This conversation was lengthier, because he had to explain his reincarnation, clarify a few small points about Salem, and explain that the most critical thing they needed to do was train. Oscar balked at the idea of his training as well, and Oz explained the regiment while he continued to talk to Miss Rose and the remains of JNPR.

(Oh, Pyrrha, how proud you would be of their growth. You were taken too soon.)

It felt _good_ , good to be in front of students, good to be teaching again. This was, Ozpin felt, his greatest contribution in this incarnation. There was something about coaxing ideas out of children - even teenagers - watching them puzzle through a question he asked or wondering why adjusting footing by such a minor degree made any difference. This was where he could shine, and in moving his partner's body around, he was building muscle memory the boy would need all too soon.

When he wasn't teaching, he was talking to Qrow, learning about how few huntsmen were in Mistral, how many had disappeared or been hunted themselves.

"It would seem Salem has been building this strategy for a while."

"Yeah," Qrow said. "You should see Leo. He was always a little nervous but now he's downright _twitchy_. I'm not totally sold on him sending out hunter's to handle the swell of Grimm attacks because of the anxiety of Mistral being blamed for the attack on Beacon, but saving face doesn't account for all of _this_."

"Agreed," Oz said, staring at the mission board. "This is very targeted. What do you think of the Council?"

"Haven't seen them yet," Qrow said. "Leo says if I so much as blink at them they won't okay the mission to go after Raven."

Ozpin smirked, allowed some mirth to bleed into his voice. "You do have an affect on people."

Qrow snorted. "You always put up with me."

Ozpin shrugged his shoulders. "Your demeanor always seemed to compliment mine. As I recall you were the only one who liked the idea of being shot off a cliff as an initiation."

 _Wait, what?_ Oscar asked, incredulous.

That required some explaining: Ozpin was the youngest headmaster in history - that didn't mean much with a history of only eighty years, and Ozpin wasn't sure if it counted given he was an Oz incarnation. Having said that, there was a lot of concern and… oversight… when he first took over. Being a headmaster always made one beholden to a number of people: the Council, parents as the perceived grand leader, the board of education, etc. All of them scrutinized someone not even thirty entering the office, and for the first five years he was just as sober, just as solemn, just as serious as they expected him to be. Once they felt comfortable, however, Ozpin proudly did one thing to show them what kind of headmaster he was going to be:

He was going to have an initiation.

Technically, that required approvals, proposals, grants, funding. Ozpin blithely skipped over that, simply talked to the new Dr. Oobleck and seasoned Professor Port, used his own funds to purchase cameras to monitor the forest, and used the old launch pads that were used to practice landing strategies. He placed the chess pieces himself in the ruins, made a mug of hot chocolate, and took note of a set of twins that looked over the cliffs with something akin to anticipation. A young blonde was rubbing his hands together and a tiny girl in a white cloak assumed a ready position - even with no one telling them what was about to happen, those four had figured it out.

And he launched them over the cliffs all at once.

"You did _what?_ " Oscar demanded, right in the middle of lunch, when Oz finished explaining the story. Everyone stared at him, making him shy away and wishing desperately to disappear, and Ozpin could only laugh in good-natured humor as he stuttered through an explanation.

"Oh, yeah! That was really fun!"

"That's why I chose Beacon, because they just _did_ stuff like that!"

"I had _no idea_ what was happening, it was absolutely terrifying!"

The various people, Council and otherwise, had pitched the greatest of fits when they learned what their egregiously young headmaster had done, but then Ozpin showed them the test scores, the adaptability ratings, and the communication and problem solving skills that had been evoked by the so-called "stunt." By the end of the year he had straight As across the board for the entire cohort - including those impetuous Branwen twins - with anecdotes from students and teachers both how that opening exam had set the stage for everyone to take their work seriously.

Obviously, he had been granted much more freedom after that, and Ozpin always enjoyed finding new ways to tease the students.

"That fits no definition of _teasing_ ," Oscar moaned, everyone else still laughing and reminiscing. "That's _pranking_."

 _If you say so,_ Ozpin said, _I suppose I did find it rather amusing_.

* * *

"What's Professor - what did you say his name was? Professor Lionheart? What is he like?"

Oz drew on his memories to explain: Leonardo Lionheart was a faunus: lion, specifically, though he never displayed the traits one often associated with lions. He was a gentle spirit, especially compared to the militaristic James or the rough and tumble Qrow or the complicated Raven or the stern Glynda. When presented with a problem, the others would offer strategy, offense, defense, analyze patterns. Their goal was about stopping Salem, cornering her, defeating her.

(Oz couldn't bear to tell them she couldn't be killed, he couldn't bear to watch them come to terms with something so irrevocably _devastating_. He wanted to give them hope, he had to inspire hope, they all put him on that pedestal, and he struggled to live up to their expectations, to be what they needed.)

Leo, however, always offered the most interesting insight: he would ask what one of Salem's pawns had been through to think that Salem was a better offer. Empathy was a rare trait, and Leo often asked if the other side was somehow scared.

The others never understood, they all answered fear with a raised fist in some way, as Leo once described, but the faunus answered by turning a cheek.

"It's the safest thing to do," Leo once said. "The least dangerous thing to do is to bow your head, agree, say that they are right. That makes you valuable, and it eases the pain."

"There are many kinds of pain," Ozpin answered from his seat across from Leo, pouring tea from a new tea set, for a new headmaster. "There may be less physical pain by immediately agreeing to the other side to open a dialogue, but that in itself creates a different kind of pain, the pain of knowing that you compromised yourself."

"Far better to compromise yourself," Leo said as he added cream to his tea. "All my life, I've had to abide by every stereotype and assumption people made of me. Better that than being beaten, spat upon, or cursed at. If you agree that you are less than nothing, you are less likely to suffer."

Ozpin reached out, hand on the Long Memory and touching his friend with the other. "All the better then, that you're headmaster here in Mistral, in Haven. Here you can show generation after generation of students just what it means to be a faunus: you can show them the compassion you hold for even our greatest enemies."

Oscar mulled over the story, looking down at his own up of tea, trying out the blend for the first time. "He sounds really nice."

 _He is,_ Ozpin replied, wistful of the memory. _I look forward to seeing him again._

"Will you want to take over when we get there?"

 _No, not immediately,_ he replied. _The fewer people who know about us the better. Especially with so few hunters and no students, and no idea what's happened, we want to play it safe until we are proven otherwise._

"... Okay."

* * *

In truth, Oz had told the story to help Oscar deal with his growing fear as he realized just what he had been dragged into. Every incarnation went through some form of it, and Oz understood that time was the biggest thing Oscar needed, and time was the one thing he couldn't control.

( _Salem_ was the one thing he couldn't control, and he always paid so very dearly.)

Haven had hurt to see - empty of students, empty of teachers and Hunters and Huntresses: Mistral had one of the biggest draws for students even compared to Beacon, and seeing it so _empty_ … Ozpin wished for hot chocolate to calm his growing sense of dread. Seeing Leo on the landing of the stairwell, _armed_ , was also a source of concern, Leo was the type to prepare for battle at the last minute, always instead looking for an alternate solution. Seeing his weapon clipped to his arm implied there were no other alternatives, and Oz frowned deep inside his partner's psyche, trying to put the pieces together.

Then Raven.

And the assassin - Cinder Fall.

And the betrayal.

Oscar could not abide what had happened, struggled against his anger to realize an adult had betrayed students. Ozpin was in a similar place - a teacher himself, and one of the few who valued Leo's sensitivity. He could still recite every letter and message Leo had ever sent, at first desperate missives on how to be a good headmaster, but also stories of smaller successes: having an anti-faunus student in his office and talking to him, watching the spring rains envelope the city, how _proud_ he was to be a _faunus headmaster._

_Leo… what happened to you?_

Self-preservation activated, and Leo finally decided to take the fight seriously, snapped out of his cowardly haze, and Oscar suddenly realized what was happening. _What do I do now?_

Oz offered the truth: _fight_.

They fared adequately - Leo hadn't been lying, apparently, to say he wasn't the fighter he was, and Oz kept one eye on Hazel, always wary. He gave suggestions where he could, little nudges if he thought they could be felt, kept a sense of their aura, but then Miss Rose was struck from behind and Oscar's emotions flooded everything. He ran to his friend and Oz saw Leo talking to Hazel from the corner of his partner's eyes and _oh_ , he knew _exactly_ what Leo was saying.

Then Hazel was advancing, shouting, growling, and Oz had to very quickly explain who Hazel Rainheart was and why he was so mad. Oscar, bless him and his good heart, thought he could talk Hazel down, didn't think he should be mad if his sister knew the risks and chose anyway. These were all excellent points and ideas, but Oz knew this man's pain. He was wounded in a way that could not be healed. Oscar tried to intervene, said he needed to fight his own battles, but this wasn't his fight, he blames me for what happened, but, but, but-!

And Oz had to make a decision.

And he chose wrong.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

Trauma came in two forms, to Oz's mind: Hard and soft. Hard trauma was the kind that Hazel suffered: something sudden and intense and unexpected, an event that exploded in one's life and then disappeared, leaving the person to struggle through the aftermath. The great quakes of old, told even before Ozma's day, that would level entire cities, tragedies, war, Grimm. Part of the trauma was the knowledge that this was a thing that was completely outside of one's control, was the definition of "unprecedented." The survivor of such a trauma was left with a massive, gaping hole in their experience in some way. A piece of them was ripped out - literally, figuratively - and not everyone knew how to patch and fill that void.

The shape of Hazel's trauma was his sister. She was young and active, the picture of life, and he couldn't imagine life without her. Now that he _had_ life without her, he still could not comprehend it. In the end, he blamed himself, Oz understood that on a level that not even Hazel knew. Hazel hated that he had not somehow prevented Gretchen from joining Beacon, hated that he had not somehow predicted the unpredictable and stopped the tragedy from happening.

But hating oneself is a very hard thing to do: it took years of conditioning, learning, "training." One had to first think of themselves as nothing, and those who came from hale, healthy, families, did not suffer that experience. Hazel did not want to hate himself, and instead he needed to hate someone else.

Ozpin, then, as the headmaster and grand authority of the school, was a much easier target. And Ozpin filled that role gladly.

(Because he knew intimately well exactly how _hateable_ he was.)

He had thought that time would heal the wound, but Oz should have known better. He had yet to heal from his several lifetimes worth of trauma - both hard and soft - and he was a fool to think Hazel would let go of his hate, because that meant self-reflection; and few people indeed practice true, meaningful, self reflection without proper training. Hazel would never heal, because to heal was to admit that he was at fault - even though he wasn't, even though there was nothing he could do.

And even if he could, by some miracle, get to that point, get to where he knew that "bad things just happen," that would still mean accepting Gretchen was gone.

And he would never accept that.

And so Ozpin chose.

_I'm so sorry._

He shoved Oscar aside, stood, and faced Hazel and the other members of Salem's cohort. He knew exactly what his partner's body could do with training, he was at barely a tenth of what he was capable of, but it was more than enough to keep them busy, keep them occupied. When all was said and done, _this was his fight_ , and Oscar needn't suffer for his mistakes, not when he would suffer enough when he began to learn the dark truth. Oscar was only just coming out of his shell, learning to trust Ozpin, and he _would not_ let it be ruined too soon.

(He ruined it himself the moment he took over.)

The gods may have cursed him but he was going to do his absolute best with the terrible hand he had been dealt with, and he pushed his partner's body as far as he dared, thrusting, jumping, dodging, willing Hazel to understand: _you have to acknowledge she's gone or you'll never grow past it_. He kept his eye on Leo, saw him cowering, and he also watched his students, saw Miss Xiao Long dash for the relic after Raven and her party, saw Qrow desperately fighting to keep people safe, saw Jaune had finally unlocked his semblance and _Oh, Miss Schnee, you've already been through so much,_ saw how far Miss Valkerie and Mr. Lie had come, and he wanted to protect them by even this much, by drawing attention to him so that his students had even the slightest advantage.

He saw Miss Xiao Long arrive with the relic, saw the girl, one of Cinder's followers, temporarily lose her sanity, her semblance creating a visceral image of _her oh the memories the blood the carnage the abuse the power the pain so much pain it all came rushing back-_

They were gone.

The day was won.

And only then did he realize what he'd done.

Spent, out of energy, he relinquished control and receded to the very back of Oscar's mind. He had pushed himself too far, spread himself too thin… he needed to rest but there wasn't time to rest... the lamp was out in the open, they needed a different location to hide it… Atlas… he needed to tell Oscar to tell the others Atlas but would his partner ever trust him again he had broken the trust he had worked so hard to build he was so _sorry so sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry I did that to you can you ever forgive me will you ever understand..._

* * *

The single quality that was common among every living creature on this planet: was fear. But fear itself wasn't worthy of concern: it was who people become, when in its clutches.

Oz knew for a long, long time, what he became when in the clutches of fear. It was ugly, selfish, desperate. In his fear for Oscar, in his fear over the truth of Hazel's remonstrations, in his fear over the _objective truth_ of his sins, he had sacrificed his partner's trust.

(This was inevitable. Oz knew that, as well. But he was just as cowardly as Leo, in that respect: he tried to put it off as long as possible.)

When he finally recovered enough to process what had happened… all he could feel was broken regret. This had all started because of him, this horrible curse had been because of him - he had no one to blame but himself - and he was a thrice damned fool for thinking anything he did, any decision he made, would ever be _forgivable_.

But Oz was weak, and he wanted forgiveness anyway. All he could do was apologize, over and over: _I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I promised only ever to take over when you consented and **I broke that promise**. I'm so sorry_. He understood just how vile his actions during the fight had been, he understood how deplorable he now looked, and he could not sweep it under the rug, ignore what he had done: he _had_ to fix it, because Oscar was his _partner_ and they had to have some kind of working relationship.

"Please stop…" Oscar moaned, still in pain for what Oz had done to his partner's body, and Oz retreated as much as he could, trying to give the boy space to process what had happened. He had _violated Oscar's agency_ , there was no way he could come back from that.

"I didn't consent."

_I know…_

"I didn't consent…"

_I'm so sorry…_

Oscar had every right to every emotion he felt as he worked through that fight, and Oz was foolish to think any of his excuses were worth listening to. After everything he had done, every mistake he had made, he wondered why he even bothered to feel hurt - this was deserved. He pulled back as far as he could, held in his negative emotions and let Oscar have his. Qrow checked on them, as did Ruby and some of the others.

"Hey," Qrow said, tapping Oscar's forehead. "How you holding up?"

"... sore…" Oscar said, his voice weak. "Tired…"

"Figured," he said, nodding. "Oz pushed you pretty hard."

Ozpin winced, deep in his partner's mind.

"... he keeps telling me to fight my battles for myself," Oscar said. "So why…"

And Qrow smiled, running his coarse fingers through Oscar's hair. "That's Oz for you," he said. "He'll never admit it, but he cares a lot about people. Like humanity-people and everyday-people. He said once that small things gave him the greatest joy, and big things bring him the biggest sadness."

"... but what does that even mean?"

"It means he's been around long enough to know every emotion on Remnant, and he knows which ones just cut and which ones are lethal, and he tries to keep people away from the lethal ones." He snorted, looking to the side. "Did that for me more than once."

Oscar said nothing, but Oz could sense his thoughts. What surprised him, however was him asking, "Do you want to talk to him?"

Qrow nodded.

"Then…" he took a deep breath. "I consent."

Oz was beside himself. _Are you sure?_ He asked, _if you're not ready yet-_

"Shut up before I change my mind."

… Ozpin touched his shoulder and switched places. Soreness enveloped him, and he winced before forcing himself to sit up. "Qrow…" he started to say. "I'm so sorry…"

"You gotta stop that, Oz," Qrow said, red eyes intense. "You can't control everything, and you're not responsible for everything."

It hurt to hear that, because he _was_ responsible for everything, but at the same time Qrow's words brought a wealth of relief, and he found himself closing his partner's eyes and accepting the words.

(He didn't deserve the kindness.)

"You're the best of us, Oz," his friend said.

"Then… I will do my best to live up to that. What do you need?"

Qrow nodded at the change of topic. "Leo. He was found dead in his office, strangled and stabbed. I'd lay odds it was a Grimm, one of Salem's. We need a cover story - not just for that but for everything else that happened."

Oz nodded. "I understand. I'll think on it. For now, I don't want to abuse Oscar's trust any more."

* * *

Leonardo Lionheart was a lot of things. Cowardly above all, but Oz was a coward, too, and he understood the shame and self-loathing that came with making those kinds of weak decisions. All he could think about was everything Leo had done before giving in to his fear: how good he was in a fight, how strong his heart was, how gentle he was in the face of people hating his kind; the pride he felt when he had been named headmaster - even more proud when Oz explained he had nothing to do with it - had deliberately not interfered because he knew Leo could make it on his own. That was how he wanted to be Leo remembered.

(It was how he would have wanted _himself_ to be remembered, on the days he thought he might be worthy of being remembered.)

Oscar didn't like the cover story, asked more than once why Leo was lionized. The boy was intelligent, and Oz gave the more diplomatic answer: t _he very attack on Haven will be a cause of great disturbance and uncertainty to the people of Mistral. Better then, to give them a source of solace, that one of their own fought bravely to the end._

"But that's not what happened. Why are you lying?"

_Because the life Leo served is worth more than the decisions he made at the end._

"But he betrayed us. He betrayed you, didn't he? How can you forgive that?"

 _… All in due time,_ Oz said, uncertain how to explain that Oz had been alive long enough, experienced enough, to understand why someone did what they did. He knew the reasoning behind Leo's decisions - more than enough people in his life had justified their betrayals to him, and he understood weakness of the level Leo suffered. Oscar would understand it, too, as they continued to merge, and Ozpin's greatest wish was keep his partner emotionally healthy for as long as possible.

(He was also putting off the inevitable fight.)

 _These are all excellent questions,_ he would say, _and you will receive the answers all in due time. This entire process, as I told Miss Rose, is a strain on everyone involved. For now, I would rather the strain on me rather than you. We have many, many other concerns right now, and I know some of my answers will be upsetting. Better to wait until we have a chance to breathe._

"Have you ever had the chance to breathe?"

(He hadn't. He never had the chance to breathe because he had to be everything to everyone, the teacher the father the leader the man with the plan the paragon the paladin he couldn't let anything slip by not even a little because the pedestal he was put on would break and then they would see the truth and _they had the right to be angry-)_

_… All in due time._

* * *

Truth was something Oz held great value in.

(And this was the greatest lie he ever told himself.)

When push came to shove, he always told the truth. It was just… there were certain things that he knew that brought only pain, pain to a level Oz knew intimately well. He'd watched people he trusted use Jinn to make the world burn, he saw people learn about Salem and kill him outright - forcing him to reincarnate, he saw entire kingdoms fall to the Grimm because of despair. The most important thing for Oz was to cultivate hope.

But, then, not everyone saw it that way.

Oscar was beside himself when he talked about Jinn. They were deep enough into the merger that he could sense the lie but not the reasoning behind it. Oz gave what he could: _Knowledge is a great source of sorrow,_ he said, _I have asked her my questions, and I spent lifetimes coming to terms with what I learned. I wouldn't dream of hurting them the same way._

That was the truth. It just wasn't the _whole_ truth, and Oscar could sense it, and wasn't satisfied. "What are you hiding?"

_Please… all in due time._

"What happened to no more lies and half truths?"

"Yeah," Oscar said, "I think it's time we got an explanation."

Ozpin took control, but he was not _happy_. "I did not _lie_ to you."

_But you did. About the relic. Why did you lie..._

"Well you certainly didn't tell us everything about the relic."

"Please," Oz said, as much to Oscar as to Miss Xiao Long and Miss Schnee, "now is not the time…" Not right after a train wreck, not where they were subject to Grimm, not on the side of a mountain and no defensible position. And not with a _relic_ out in the open.

"Oh, we're way past that!" Miss Xiao Long said, voice loud, almost shouting. She sounded so like Raven in that moment Ozpin nearly did a double take. "I wanna know why you're still not telling us everything."

Ozpin sighed. "… It is true that the Grimm are attracted to the relics. It's faint but undeniable. I believe it has to do with their origin but I'm not entirely sure. Regardless, I feared that making you all aware would only add anxiety and negativity. It seemed like the safer option." All of that was true, he did not lie. Those words were _accurate_.

_But they're not everything, that's what she means by half truths - you're leaving out so much as to make the truth a complete lie, don't you see that?_

But that wasn't what he was trying to _do_. He was giving them the truth, he was _Not. Lying. To. Them._

"You know," Miss Schnee said, voice flat with disapproval, "I'm getting real tired of people choosing what's best for me."

He wasn't choosing what was best for her, he was choosing to postpone further explanation until they were in a better location, surely that was obvious? _Then why not talk and walk at the same time? What's so revolutionary about Grimm being attracted to something that you decided not to share it at all? You're making a choice that's affecting everyone!_

"Is that why you chose to lie to everyone about Lionheart, too?" Miss Xiao Long demanded.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Ozpin said, feeling defensive. Why didn't they believe him? Hadn't he done enough to earn their trust? Hadn't he been everything they wanted? "I believed the kingdom of Mistral deserved better than the truth, and I believed Leonardo deserved to be remembered for his lifetime of service, and not the unfortunate missteps he made in his final years."

"Missteps?" Raven-Miss Xiao long said. He could hear the accusation, and he didn't know how to explain it, but he tried his best.

"What Professor Lionheart did was reprehensible. I am not here to argue differently." Ozpin had put his faith in Leo, in his gentle heart, had encouraged him at every turn. He had believed Leo could overcome his challenges - and Leo's betrayal had cut him to the quick, as much as Raven leaving - even more, because Leo didn't tell him to his face. But again, _Oz understood that fear_ , and he knew without being told that Leo was full of shame, self-loathing, and who would want to be remembered for that? "Does one lapse in judgement truly negate all of his good? Do we not all have regrets? You may have met Professor Lionheart, but you never met the man he was before Salem found him."

_Who are we even talking about here, Lionheart? Or you?_

Oz burned at the question, even as his answer was still not enough.

"Look, we're supposed to be in this," Miss - Yang said. "Together. You can trust us, we're not going to turn out backs on you."

" _I'll never betray you._ "

" _I pledge my sword, I will die for you._ "

" _Rest assured, I will never fall to such cowardice._ "

" _Traitor!_ "

" _You lied to us! You used us!_ "

" _I trusted you and all the while you were laughing at me!_ "

" _You deserve to suffer!"_

Too many memories too many betrayals too many oaths of fealty too many swords in the back Salem only killed him half the time the other times it was friends family lovers all thinking they could stand with him but they always stood under him because they lifted him so high up and every time the inevitable happened and they learned he was as human as they their anger always hurt so much and do you really-

"Do you really think Leo was the _first_?" he hissed, all the pain bubbling up in his heart - his partner's heart. He turned, faced all of them. "That he didn't say those exact same words to me?" The pause drew out, all of them staring. It hurt _so much_ to have that truth dragged out of him, but now they knew. They had to understand.

"I'm sorry," he said, pleading, "but you have to understand that my behaviors are backed by experience. I'm not saying I have reason to think you will betray me, I'm saying that I have reasons for the things that I do - the secrets I keep."

Was it too much to ask that he protect _himself_? He knew he had no value - even to the gods themselves - he knew his priority was to be to humanity - but surely _just once_ he could choose to explain all of his myriad shortcomings in small, controlled pieces, where he had even the slightest chance of not being (rightly, deservedly) hated? "The reason I-"

He froze, hand at his hip. It was… it was gone… the crash… "Where's… the relic?"

"… Right here."

Ozpin's eyes snapped to Miss Rose, where she held the lamp.

Stress anxiety can't have it can't know please trust me no one has ever trusted me please give me this only this let me _Stay. Safe. For. A Little. Longer_. "Please," Oz said, voice gently, "hand it over."

_… You're afraid._

"… So all those times you talked about having faith in humanity?" she asked, "That was just for everyone else?"

_What are you so afraid of, you've been alive for thousands of years, what's left to be afraid of?_

_Stop. Please, Oscar, all in due time._

Oz grunted. How was everything going so wrong? Why was everyone misunderstanding? "… That's not what I meant to suggest," he clarified. "Miss Rose, the relic is a powerful item and I simply feel as though it is my burden to bear."

 _Relationships are built on trust and trust was built on honesty. What was_ soooooo _bad that it_ had to be hidden _?_

"But… you said it couldn't do anything right now."

_Please, all in due time. You'll learn all of it, I promise… just let me..._

"What does it matter who carries it?"

_No, what has you so afraid? So afraid of us? You can trust us!_

"I need you to listen to m-"

 _No! We're done listening to the lies!_ Oscar put a messy hand on Ozpin's shoulder, trying to take back over, and Oz was shocked, frozen, trying to stay calm stay in control, _we'll use Jinn if we have to_ , no please, not like this, _but it has to come out eventually_ , but not like this please on my terms in my own way, _like I had any say with Hazel? Will you shut me up now like you did then_ , please, it wasn't like that don't violate me like I violated you I already feel bad enough I don't need more people to hate me I was trying to spare- _you're sparing everything! This has to stop!_ But **not like this-!**

"Nooooooooo!"

Ruby said her name, the snow had stopped he had to stop it he had to stop-stop- _stop_!

(But like always, his inaction hurt everyone around him.)

* * *

Oz had gotten a message from Glynda that Tai was coming up with Qrow. Oz was surprised, he thought the man was still in Patch with Summer and the girls. He stood as the elevator pinged, moving around his desk to see what was the matter.

Tai stormed into the office, Qrow at his heels, with two babies strapped to his back, one in front and one behind, and he was shouting.

"Where is she?" he demanded. "Why'd you send her off on a mission?"

Ozpin blinked. "What?"

"Summer! You said she didn't have to take any missions! You promised us two years!"

"And I meant it," Ozpin said, confused. "I removed her from the mission list personally, she was only to handle local Grimm. What's happened?"

" _She's gone!_ "

Again: "What?"

"Look," Qrow said, grabbing Tai's shoulder, "I told you, he wouldn't go back on his word like that."

"But she-!"

" _Tai_ ," Qrow said, tightening his grip, "It wasn't _Oz_."

He got the whole story, what little there was of it: Summer just disappeared, saying she had a mission. Ozpin repeated several times he gave no such assignment, couldn't understand what had happened to make her leave so suddenly. Tai paced the office, girls sleeping on his back, as all of his anxiety poured out of him in one massive tidal wave. Ozpin made tea, hot chocolate for himself, watched as Qrow spiked his and Tai refused his, and he sat with Long Memory across his lap and just listened. Eventually, Qrow was able to get Tai to leave, and Ozpin held him back a moment, touching his elbow.

"Let me know what happens," he softly.

Qrow nodded.

And then, much later, the text: _She's gone._

Ozpin had been in a faculty meeting when it arrived, he stared at the message while Dr. Oobleck was giving a presentation for professional development, but all of it fell away as Ozpin, _Oz_ , realized tragedy had befallen them again. He gave Glynda a brief explanation and took his leave, taking the first transit to Patch, purchasing flowers, getting directions to the Xiao Long residence.

Inside was a fight:

"Tai, _she's not coming back!_ "

"Damn him! Damn that prideful old fart for sending her!"

"Tai, we already know he didn't-"

" _But he's the cause of this!_ "

Ozpin froze, there at the door, hand raised to knock.

" _He's_ the reason she left! Him and his damn mission! Look at what's happened to us because of him! First Raven, now _Summer_!" Tai's voice cracked, raw pain pouring out of the words. "I wish we'd _never met him! Damn Ozpin! I hope I never see him again!_ "

His heart gave out, as did his stomach, and his ears burned, and the will to do anything at all slowly receded. One tiny part of his mind pointed out that he really should leave, but he was rooted to the spot, inertia and despair combining into a sinking spiral of _you deserve to hear this._

He didn't know how long it took, but he was eventually able to place the flowers on the doorstep and turn around. If he leaned heavily on the Long Memory, well, he hardly noticed.

Ozpin sat at the train station, waiting for the next departure, wondering how he could ever make it up to Ta-to Mr. Xiao Long. His mind couldn't work, however, his body was so heavy, and all he could think about was failures and pedestals and trying _so very hard_ to be what he needed to be and _never living up to it._

"Hey."

He looked up. "Qrow."

The last member of STRQ sat next to him, crossing his legs and pulling out a flask.

"... I'm surprised you even want to speak to me." Ozpin was surprised the words came out of his mouth. Where did he have the energy to talk?

"You know me, always bucking the trends."

Silence settled between them, Qrow drinking from the new flask, Ozpin trying to find something to say.

"It was good of you to come down," Qrow said. "Girls would have loved to meet you."

"I'm not sure I agree," Ozpin said, chin on the pommel of Long Memory. He closed his eyes, but they leaked anyway. "I'm so sorry…"

"Oz…" Something soft and warm touched his knee, and he turned, blurry eyes seeing Qrow's hand there. He followed it, from the tips of the fingers to the rings to the bracelet up to the sleeve to the shoulder and to Qrow's face. There was a streak of grey in his hair that hadn't been there before. "Oz," he said again, and his voice was soft, low. "You can't take the blame. We all knew the risks when we signed up for this."

No, they didn't. Not really, they didn't know _all_ the risks. They didn't know the darkest of secrets, they didn't know how much of a failure he really was. And they deserved to, Qrow deserved to know, Qrow deserved to understand how much he-

"I try so hard," he said, but it was more of a hiccup (not a hiccup), his voice was unrecognizable. His whole body was starting to shake, and he was afraid he would break right there, in front of Qrow, and that was the _last thing_ his friend needed right now. He needed to be strong he needed to have an answer he needed to-

Qrow leaned in, the hand on his knee lifting and slinking around his shoulders, and Ozpin had to duck his head. "I try so hard," he said again, but it was just noise out of his mouth, and he _did_ break. He lost himself in his own self-hatred, being alive for _so long_ and never gaining ground for more than a century at most, for _not having a plan_ , for not _telling them the truth_ because he knew they would hate him - all he wanted to do was give people the chance to be better than themselves, he knew they could do it but for every victory there was a defeat and he kept trying he kept trying he kept _trying_ and the good ones always died so _young_ and sometimes he was afraid to do anything at all and when he did only worse things came like Gretchen or Raven or Summer or _so many others_ and he was just so _tired_ …

When he finally came back to his senses, the arm was still around his shoulders.

Qrow was still there, staring out across the tracks, flask in his free hand.

"... I'm sorry," Ozpin said, his voice rough and watery. "The last thing you needed was to see that." He tried to straighten, but the arm around his shoulders squeezed, and kept him still.

He looked over, saw Qrow taking a draw from his flask. "It's not every day you see a great and powerful wizard break down like that," he said, voice distant. He turned, red eyes seeming to glow in the evening light. Ozpin blinked to realize it was evening. "Reminds people like me that even you have bad days."

Ozpin rubbed his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, shaking his head. "You all deserve so much better than me."

" _Oz_ ," and the voice was almost a growl. "Oz, if you hear nothing else, hear this: Meeting you was the best luck of my life."

(In all of the centuries of all the lives Oz had lived, since the day he vowed to tell no one the truth about Salem, he had never once been tempted. Even now, he was not tempted.)

(But for the first time, Ozpin allowed himself to fantasize what it would be like to tell Qrow.)

* * *

If hard trauma was the kind that was a bolt of lightning, soft trauma was like drinking poison: it was quieter, less noticeable, more pernicious and, to Oz's mind, infinitely more painful. He was forced to watch his worst memories be ripped out of him: the good times forever tainted by what happened after, watching Salem twist and curl into something unrecognizable, his _unmitigatedly foolish_ decision to agree to the God's terms just so he could see her again, blind to what he was being warned of. All the pain and confusion of being killed and brought back to life while the gods bickered, and the _terrible curse_ placed upon him.

_"If humanity has learned to live in harmony with one another and set aside their differences, then we shall once again live among you, and humanity will be made whole again."_

_"But, if your kind is unchanged, if you demand our blessings while still fighting amongst yourselves, then man will be found irredeemable, and your world will be wiped from existence."_

How? How could he teach _all of humanity_ to set aside their differences? How could he teach harmony when his heart longed only to be with the love of his life? What a horrible duty! How was he supposed to perform such a task!

Then he found Salem, and the god's warnings were lost.

_"The woman you hold dear in your memories is gone."_

_"Where you seek comfort, you will only find pain."_

All he saw was Salem. And that was how the soft trauma started. Oz didn't learn what she had done until much later, all he knew was he was back with his love. She was different, but then, _he_ was different, too. He tried to adapt to the changes, the way she casually cursed the gods that had kept them alive and - to his mind - brought them together again. He was uncomfortable with the idea of being a _god_ to the people, but if it gave him the grant to teach them harmony, then he could live with being uncomfortable. If Salem was in a mood, well, she had been through even more pain than him, he could forgive it. He had no right to doubt Salem, not when she had lived through so much more than him, and his hurt was trivial compared to hers, he needn't bother bringing it up, and she was so _happy_ when the girls were born, and she was so _happy_ when people worshiped her.

But still, there was a voice in his head, one whose tenor he didn't recognize, that would ask, over and over, _What are we doing?_

And when he finally reconciled all of this, Salem just…

"Why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans?"

She didn't consider herself human anymore. Oz _did_. If she thought humans were beneath her, then the girls…

In all of his adventures, all of his quests, as Ozma, he had never felt fear, because he was solid in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing, the noble thing. He sought to help others as he had been helped so often as a boy, he wanted to return the kindnesses that had been given him, and so he feared not for what happened to him. That night, however, when he decided to escape the love of his life, to rush the girls somewhere safe, his heart was perpetually in his throat.

Self-hatred, self-loathing, those were learned traits, and Salem took pains to teach him.

Over.

And over.

And over.

One lifetime after the next, he was never just killed, he was captured so she could have her way with him, show him how deeply his betrayal hurt her and how he _deserved_ what she did to him, and that he was the _cause_ of all of his suffering.

And she wasn't wrong. He did not listen to the gods, blinded by the memory of his love, and now it was twisted into something dark, broken and rearranged to something else. He trusted her, and _all of this_ was the result of _his actions._ He deserved it. He deserved it.

_He deserved this._

(The thing about soft trauma, is that very few people can see it. And Oz was very, _very_ good at hiding it.)

* * *

"Salem can't be killed. You all heard her, too, right?"

Oz was crumpled on the snow, still reeling that all of it had been ripped out of him and laid bare. "I…" Tears were streaming down his face, all the pain torn open and now his heart was bleeding everywhere.

"There was _so much_ you hadn't told us! How did you think that was okay?"

"Professor… What _is_ your plan to defeat Salem?"

He looked up, his worst fears had come to pass, all of his ugliest sins dragged out and put on a flagpole for the world to see. He was bereft, adrift, so _lost_ , and so _low_ , all he could do was confess the last, terrible truth.

"… I... don't have one…"

The blow came suddenly, but not without expectation. Oz could do nothing but accept it, as he had accepted it every other time someone learned the truth. (This is why he stopped telling people. To keep them safe, yes, spare them the negativity that followed, yes. But also, to keep himself safe, too. Because he was weak.)

He looked up, expecting Yang, perhaps Blake, but horror donned as he saw it was Qrow standing over him, hands shaking.

"No one wanted me," he growled. "I was cursed. I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world. I thought I was finally doing some _good_."

Oh, Qrow, no, don't turn this around to yourself, don't find a way to make this about your semblance when _I'm the one at fault_ , you've come so far done so much don't lose all the ground you've gained-

"But you _are_ -" he started to say, trying to stop the fall Qrow was going to take, trying to keep his friend's head above water, trying to-

"Meeting you," Qrow said, not once looking as Ozpin, "was the _worst luck of my life._ "

And all the good Ozpin had thought he had done in his life was gone he had broken everything around him he deserved everything he was useless worthless didn't deserve to be here wasn't worthy to be in their presence need to disappear remove the stain of his essence spare all of them more pain he was the _epitome of bad luck why was he even here..._

"… Maybe you're right."

And he went to the place of No Mind.

" _What happened?"_

_"He's… gone."_

_"That_ bastard _! Tell him we're not_ done _yet!"_

 _"No, this is different, he's gone! It… it's like he's locked himself up deep inside my head. Our head?_ I hate this! _I want it to_ stop! _"_

* * *

"Some lives were spent in mourning. Many were spent in trying to forget it all."

"But no matter what, his mind would eventually turn back to the task he had been burdened with."

* * *

The place of No Mind was the furthest Oz could retreat; everything else was far away, to be watched but only through peripheral sensation. That was for the best, because Oscar's overwhelming feelings were _relief_ that Oz wasn't in his head anymore, frustration that the others didn't see him for him, _fear_ that he was going to be erased. It poured out of his partner in waves, and Oz knew he had made the best choice - they were all better off without him.

Any decision they made would be an order of magnitude better than one of his.

And yet…

And yet…

Oz realized there were Grimm about, it prickled along Oscar's senses in a way that his partner didn't understand but Oz _did_. Apathy was a form of negativity, and certain Grimm had the ability to cultivate it. He did not want his partner, did not want Qrow, nor the others, to suffer any more than what they had at his hands. He waited, wondering if he would need to…

But Oscar grunted, bargaining with himself, feeling he had been through this before, when his parents passed, and struggled through the numbness. RWBY were able to pull themselves together, saved everyone from the danger, and afterward they talked.

Then was reading in JNR - Mr. Arc had every right to be angry, and in his anger he shoved it to someone unworthy: Oscar. His partner's thoughts were low, lonely but not quiet - happy for the silence but aware of the isolation. Oscar shivered in the cold and sank into his misery, lamenting his fate and struggling to reconcile how he could change it when he couldn't. Oz burned in shame, unable to help in any way, knowing that trying to help would only make it worse. After an entire incarnation of thinking that doing nothing would be the best course of action, now that he _wanted_ to do something it was objectively the worst thing to do.

And then:

 _Maybe_ I _can do something to change Salem's machinations._

Oz blinked, surprised to hear the thought, and he watched Oscar stand up and move. He looked for clothes, outfitted himself - but again the fear spiked through his mind: Oscar saw Oz in his reflection and that frightened him. (It frightened Ozpin, too, once upon a time.) But he held his breath and closed his eyes and forced himself to make the purchases anyway: _The rest shouldn't matter. I need to make myself seen._

Oscar was afraid - terrified, but he chose to be brave. He fought through his fear and bought ingredients, decided to cook for everyone, because it was something _he_ could do.

Oz watched curiously, as some kind of recipe floated through Oscar's mind, bags in hand. He saw Qrow, drunk on the front steps of a house and _oh_ the pain he caused the one person who gave him the most…

"Shhut up. Nothing I do mmatters. 'Sall pointless. Never did any good…"

Oh, _Qrow_ , how wrong you were…

Ozpin looked away, unable to bear what he had done to Qrow, reaffirming that his leaving was the right thing, that the place of No Mind was the best way to wait out the merger. He couldn't hurt anyone from here, not any more.

(No matter how much he wanted to say, "No, you were the best luck of my life, too.")

He cycled through his memories: first meeting Qrow and STRQ on his first ever Initiation, watching them come together as a team, the rough first year of fighting, competition, mischief, having the twins in his office over and over even though he was barely a decade older than them, trying to see what they needed and being what they needed. Seeing the overwhelming talent of Summer and Tai, watching them solidify in their second year during the Vytal Festival, the pride they felt in how far they'd come. He remembered graduation, giving them their licenses and telling them in small sentences how much their growth had affected him, and Summer asking that they work for him.

He remembered watching Tai grab Qrow when he was still too brash, wearing down his edges; while Qrow showed Summer how to lead by example; and Summer showed Raven that compassion wasn't a weakness, it was a strength; while Raven pushed Tai to be better and better. They were the greatest, most accomplished, most _challenging_ students he had ever had, and they taught him how much there still was to learn in life.

(And he still let them all down.)

"It's my fault we were all out there in the first place. Oscar, I am _so sorry_ , for earlier."

… Mr. Arc? Oz looked again, saw the leader of JNPR (JNR) perform the greatest and hardest of burdens a leader could have: taking responsibility for a mistake. He owned what he did, apologized.

And Oscar… his partner forgave him. Oscar was full of compassion, and he told Jaune the truth. He validated Jaune's concerns - everyone's concerns - and explained his own, and his plan for the future.

"I do know that I want to do everything I can to help with whatever time I have left."

 _I at least want what I do to_ matter.

Ozpin's partner… Oz watched more closely, still in the place of No Mind, but he watched Oscar make decisions, be afraid, but still try. He watched Oscar study a giant mecha, comparing it to farm equipment, demanding that the Atlas ship act as distraction. He watched his partner fight through his doubts and worries, and try to do the best that he could. He saw the moment he was overwhelmed and the fear turned to panic and no, Oscar, don't let the fear take over, not when you're doing so well…

Oz reached out.

 _Stay calm,_ he said, putting a hand on Oscar's; gently guiding how to steer the yoke. _It's going to be okay._ He tried to be soft, to not overwhelm Oscar further, to put his partner's mind at ease.

Oscar was afraid, afraid he would be taken over, and Oz held in his hurt, simply stayed with him until the crash was over, hoping he was a reassuring presence instead of a terrifying one.

The boy marveled. "We're… We're still in one piece?"

He could feel the query, the disbelief that Oz had come back, the question on if it had all happened. He didn't want to overstay his welcome, Oscar still had so much to work through, and Oz did not want to be the cause of a setback.

He did, however, offer some encouragement.

_It's exactly as Miss Rose said, you're braver than you think you are._

Oscar needed to know that, needed to know that where Oz was beaten down with fear he had stood up and faced it. He was better than Oz had been for generations, and… he gave Oz a lot to think about.

* * *

Oz's lives were lived in cycles.

It would start with mourning, as one loss or setback made him relive every mistake he had ever made, made him remember why this was all his fault. The grief would overwhelm him, and he would sink into its depths and just… lay… there… stagnant and unable to move. He would spend entire incarnations hiding away in the place of No Mind, just… hidden away until the merger was complete, and he would do something - anything - to try and dull the pain.

Sometimes it was drink, sometimes it was dust, sometimes it was something his current incarnation had preferred. Whatever it took, because he was just so _tired_ ….

Eventually, though - perhaps inevitably - he would wake up and realize that enough was enough. He couldn't afford to be weak, because he had a job to do. Harmony. He had to try and teach harmony. Some incarnations it was the only thing that kept him going, and slowly other things would start to motivate him as well:

Lying in bed with his wife in the morning, sunlight beaming through the curtains and giving her the perfect light.

Watching his cousin build his first chair, knowing he had found his true calling.

Seeing his husband forgive his father after decades apart.

The sight of his three children running up and down the market placing flowers on all the stands.

Learning his mother had decided to escape her parents so she could feel safe.

Having a patron ask if he was feeling alright.

Watching a neighbor jump into a river to save a street urchin.

An entire village banning together to fight the Grimm.

Seeing his king try to open peace talks with his neighbors.

Just… seeing people smile.

The innocence of children.

The determination of students.

Even the smallest spark of hope can ignite change.

Perhaps… victory is in the simpler things.

Those were the incarnations Oz spent in study: archivists, philosophers, alchemists, artists. He studied whatever he could, and always he came back to the human spirit. He saw tragedies - hard traumas - spring up and however painful they were, he would also see the kindness in the people around him: donating food in lean times, refusing payment when times were tough, helping those in need when everything was falling apart. Eventually, he would realize that there was hope, and he would take up the fight again, try to find some new way to stop Salem, some new scheme to bring humanity together. That was when he and his partner would try to find a position of power, to influence someone into making a good decision.

But the thing about soft trauma, is that it never went away. The self-loathing was always there, he was always acutely aware of his responsibilities, the weight of the choices he made. There was a fear, deep inside him, of failing.

And fail he did. He was not perfect, and certain mistakes he was doomed to repeat over and over.

Someone always found out. Or someone always betrayed him. Or both. Or maybe Salem got to him. (Those were the worst.) And all he knew just… faded away. Sometimes, Oz could stand and be brave, and sometimes (most times) he was broken. And the cycle would start again.

After Ozymandias, he thought he had some time to breath. As a scientist he lifted Atlas off the ground to inspire Mantle after losing the war. He created the CCT towers and was proud that the four worked in harmony with one another, that people had to speak as one voice or not at all. Salem… he had given up on Salem, all he wanted was to keep her at bay, simply hold her back long enough that he could keep doing his work: creating harmony. The schools, the Hunters, creating a separate class of citizens so that people could live in peace. Scrolls to keep them in communication, news networks, housing, health care, abundance. If people were (safe) happy, then there would be less Grimm and more chances to learn how to be better.

Ozpin inherited this purpose proudly, was glad to become a headmaster and help generations of Hunters and Huntresses.

The thing about creating these things, about being responsible for these things, was that he was also responsible for the people under him. He had to be all things to all people, and, no matter how he presented himself, they always saw his immortality and put him on a pedestal, thought he was more than they.

(And he was afraid they would realize how flawed he really was.)

And fear changes all of one's choices.

Ozpin had chosen wrongly, so many times it was likely some kind of record for this incarnation, and now even with his new partner he kept making mistakes, because he let his fear, his weakness, control him. Fear that he would fail, fear that he could not provide the things his loved ones needed. Living with that fear had brought all of those things to pass: He failed and lost Pyrrha, Beacon, so many students; he failed RWBY, JNR, Glynda, Leo, and Qrow most of all - more than anyone else in this incarnation.

Watching Oscar was like remembering Ozma: young, full of hope, determined to repay the kindnesses done to him. Oscar was young, full of hope, determined to make the world even a little bit better with his own hands. Unlike Ozma, Oscar knew fear very well, but would shake his head, look at his hands, and chose to do something about it. He fought Grimm in Mantle, admitted who he was to James. He held to his decisions, questioned Ruby about hiding Ozpin's retreat, and lived with the decision and compromised with Miss Rose. These were not a boy's choices, they were a man's.

Oscar trained as hard as he could, pushed himself farther and faster, desperate to catch up. He made friends with James - a man who only wanted to talk to Oz, and Ozpin watched as his partner tried to be seen as himself, watched as he tried to shrug off every casual mention of their inevitable merger.

(James was always like that. He wanted to be a father to his people but didn't always try to understand the people he was in charge of. He thought the ideas were enough, the intention was enough, and he never understood why some people - including Qrow - disliked him. He never understood that sometimes, someone needed to be validated.)

He watched them share hot chocolate - Oz wincing as he realized what Oscar had a sudden taste for - and he saw how uncomfortable Oscar sometimes was with James. But still he tried.

(James was falling into a dark place, and Oscar was holding him up. Could Oz do any less?)

He watched James show Oscar the Maiden's Chamber, once again talking past Oscar to try and reach Ozpin.

(And how many incarnations had Oz spent with people talking past _him_ , reaching for whatever immortal all-powerful image they had built up in their heads instead of seeing Ozpin as just… himself.)

But Oscar still made himself known, expressed his opinion and again touched on the pain James was suffering under. Still, James brushed him aside, and still, Oscar tried. Whatever James thought of Oz's partner, Oscar considered the general a friend, and wanted to do right by him. Even when it hurt.

Compassion. Oscar had compassion, and he wasn't afraid to show it the way Oz was - and even when he was afraid, he showed it anyway. Somehow, some way, as Salem's plan was starting to bloom, he found the right words to sway James, convince him the value of truth.

(Convince Oz the value of truth.)

James' worst fears were realized, just as Oz's worst fears were realized - and Oscar was convincing James to face it. (He was convincing Oz to face it.)

Oscar told James about Salem, the darkest truth, and Oz watched as his friend's entire worldview shifted, the floor opening up and swallowing him whole - he'd seen this more than once, knew how dangerous the next few hours were, and James was in crisis, and he was never one to bend _Oscar please be careful._

He was… Oscar was inspiring.

* * *

Then: defeat. Oscar lost the relic.

(But, as was increasingly obvious, Oscar was better at this than Oz.)

He didn't let the defeat bury him, however, he didn't bow to it no matter how much it burned him. Instead, he considered the possibilities, and he thought of something else to do. Oscar rallied instead of hid, focused instead of ran. He clutched the Long Memory to keep himself calm, and Oz watched, transfixed, as the best partner he'd had in centuries moved to face a man who had been broken.

And he failed again.

Oscar fell, Oz's partner having done everything he could, and no longer certain what else could be done. Only now, did he think to give in to the defeat.

He did not deserve that lesson, and Ozpin, so inspired by what his partner had done, finally decided to _act_.

 _Oscar_ , he said, exiting the state of No Mind, reaching out and hugging his partner as a father would a child, as he had done with so many of his children. Oscar blinked, a confused _Oz?_ , was queried back, but his mind was working again, and he reached for the Long Memory. The next moment was magical - literally and figuratively - as Oscar unlocked the memories necessary: the spellwork, the energy manipulation, the mechanics of the magic. He cried out, the emotion overtaking him, and with no aura he unlocked his heritage. They fell through Atlas' crust and down, the sky a glorious pink and purple, and Oscar reached deep inside himself, unknowingly touching Oz for the first time, drawing on the magic, and landing just outside of Mantle.

"That power…" he said, staring at their hands. "These memories…"

 _Resignation_ echoed over his heart, Oz could hear it as loud as his partner's next words.

"You're back, aren't you?" he asked. "You saved me."

 _Actually_ … Ozpin corrected, voice a gentle smile, pride no longer hidden but out in open display: _You saved us._

Oscar looked up to the sky, heard a rumble of thunder. All the boy's fears were back, and the one thing Ozpin needed to do before they headed out was address them.

 _Oscar_ , he started, _I…_

"Stop," his partner said. "All I want to know, is how to save Atlas next."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter probably has the biggest influences of the V7 song credits - some lines of which are lifted directly and used here.
> 
> Ozpin needs therapy - like, there's low self-esteem and then there's Ozpin. He tries so hard to please people and it always ends in disaster and he just keeps learning that he isn't good enough. The two of us also firmly believe that Oz is an abuse survivor - you don't usher four toddlers into escaping your beloved without realizing just how Not Normal your life is. And Oz of course is several orders of magnitude above normal. It's hard writing/reading Ozpin at that point - a few too many echoes, there, other fics enjoy exploring that part of his character, but to us Oz has been around long enough to come out the other side and know that there's still good in the world and that there's still work to do. Jinn's most important lines in the entire sordid tale is that Oz's mind would keep turning to the burden he was given. And in the end as a people pleaser he will get up and try again.
> 
> He needs a hug. Very, very badly.
> 
> Final chapter next week!


	5. Oz

"All I want to know, is how to save Atlas next."

 _Though it is contrary to expectation, the first necessity is rest_.

Oscar blinked. "You can't be serious."

 _I am perfectly serious_ , Oz replied. _We have no aura to speak of, our magic is in limited supply, and you at the very least have bruised ribs that cannot be healed until you're recovered enough aura to do so. You've been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and fought for several of the most recent. If you run yourself ragged now, you are asking for further setbacks later_.

"... Okay," Oscar said, bowing to the logic even as he realized he was holding his side. It was exactly like Oz said, his ribs were _killing_ him. "But where are we going to find shelter? We're just outside of Mantle. Grimm invasion, remember?"

 _Head into the city,_ Oz said, _the Grimm will be focusing on the landing zone where the remnants of the citizenry are waiting for transport to Atlas. We need to find abandoned shelter, a defensible position, and maintain calm._

"And food?"

_Only if we're lucky. We can forage later if needs be. One of our prior incarnations engineered Atlas and grew up in Mantle._

Oscar nodded, held his ribs as he took a deep breath - which was quickly aborted as he realized he couldn't expand his lungs as much as he wanted. He was certain his entire side was bruised and dreaded what sleep was going to be like - would he even be able to sleep with the Grimm? Grimacing, he moved forward.

True to Oz's predictions, there were no Grimm to speak of, Mantle was a ghost of itself: the warm oranges and soft lights lost to the dull grey of the overcast and its ominous thunder. He could walk - stiffly, but he could walk - but one arm couldn't be moved because every stretch and shift rippled inevitably to his side. He moved down narrow alleys and empty boulevards, keeping to shadows out of habit more than any apparent need. Oscar stepped carefully around corners, until he felt the ghost of a grab at his arm. He looked at it but saw nothing. What…?

 _This way_ , Oz said, and Oscar felt the invisible tug again.

"How are you doing that?" he asked, even as he turned left as the voice in his head suggested.

 _I've always done this,_ Oz replied, _but you have now grown more aware of it_.

The merger then. His erasure.

 _I know your fear, Oscar, but erasure is not what happens. I am still Ozpin, as much as I am Oz. You will be Oscar, just as much as you will be Oz_.

And for the first time all the nuance and layers to that sentence had feelings with it, too, a complicated mix of emotions and sensations and a vague… picture?... of what it was going to look like. "Is there a difference, then?" he asked, feeling another tug, moving right, down an alley. "Between Ozpin and Oz?"

_To a point, yes. My predecessor was not nearly as academic as I, nor as formal. ...Nor as hesitant to make a decision._

Oscar froze, pressed between two brick walls, eyes wide. He felt so many things with that last sentence, and when it mixed with all the thoughts he had since Oz disappeared… it felt weird, but it was like a compliment instead of a foreign emotion, it was muddled and echoed and… he still didn't have the words for it.

He shook his head. "We don't have time for that now," he said, trying to press forward.

Hurt, acknowledgement, shaking off pain, the hint of a nod. _In this we agree_.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Obviously we don't," he muttered, lifting an arm to brace against _ooooowwwww_ never mind that was his bad arm. He sucked in a breath and quickly clapped his mouth over it to dull the noise. The last thing he needed was to tip off a _Grimm_. After the waves of pain faded, he straightened, holding his side more gingerly, and pursed his lips at climbing the heap of rubble with only one arm. He lifted his good arm and gripped the steel beam he had been reaching for in the first place, lifting a boot to place it and hoisting himself up. "Where are we going, anyway?"

 _The rubble will take us into a building, and we can set up in one of the apartments_.

Seemed as good an idea as anything else. He shivered - without his aura the cold cut through everything, and he realized belatedly he was numb through. The adrenaline of the fall had worn off, and his body was starting to crash. Oscar stumbled twice on the climb, once so far the only thing that stopped his fall was a bit of rebar thwacking into him. He grunted against his will, froze where he was, listening for Grimm.

When none immediately came out of the shadows, he started his climb anew. Oz was silent, but his presence felt like it was just over his shoulder, and he felt nudges and pulls, the immortal guiding him to better handholds without words. Eventually he crested the brick and mortar, sliding down the other side and onto the floor of the building. It was tilted to the side, but nothing gave or even quivered under his feet

"Now what?"

_Listen, to your right, on the other side of the wall._

Oscar frowned, but did as he was asked. He didn't hear anything.

 _Listen with more than your ears,_ Oz said, _close your eyes. Our magic is awake now; your senses will be sharper. Hone them now while we can._

That… didn't make sense, but Oscar closed his eyes, trying to understand how to listen with _more_ than ears.

 _Think about air currents, carrying sound; or maybe think about scrolls, transmitting invisibly through the air. Think about listening on that fine a level, and then you'll hear it_.

Was… that… he heard it, the faint hiss. "Gas?" he asked. "Is the gas still on in the building?"

_Yes. Do you know how to fix a leaking pipe?_

Oscar frowned, he hadn't had a problem like that on the farm… but… he found he knew about the main wet wall of the building, knew where the gas pipes were, which walls had outlets for radiators versus climate modifiers, how separate it was from electricity… How did he know that?

 _A prior incarnation built Atlas, remember? He was an engineer who started out fixing heat in the buildings_.

That… was… handy, but so _weird_. Would he ever get used to his life being so weird? Oscar shook his head and looked around, finding a door and creeping down the slant towards it. He was able to open it to a hall, that he moved down toward the hissing sound - it was easier to hear now, and he realized he could almost hear other things: the creaking two stories down, the shuffle and shifting of the building. "Is this going to keep me up at night?" he asked, moving down two doors and finding the one he needed. He tested the knob. It was stuck.

_No, this is a skill about focus. The same will apply to scent, touch, taste to a lesser extent._

"And sight?"

_I wouldn't know. My vision was impaired._

Oscar blinked. "Really?"

 _I wore glasses for several years before getting corrective surgery. Even then, my eyes were still sensitive to light, and I needed shades for certain situations lest I get migraines. Any enhancement to my vision was… missed_.

Oscar looked over his shoulder to talk to… but he was just a voice in his head. Something was… different, and he wasn't sure how to put his finger on it. He shook his head, casting it aside, and twisted the doorknob harder, pulling at the frame. He could feel weight on the other side. Something was blocking it.

Sighing, Oscar closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the wood. He could barely feel it, he was so cold. A shudder ran down his back, and his ribs _ached_ in response. "I'm going to freeze to death," he said. _Dust_ , his teeth were chattering and he hadn't even noticed it.

_Stay calm, place your hand on the frame of the door._

"Why?"

_Because the gas pipe means we can get heat in there, and that's the fastest way to survive. We're going to use some magic._

"Wait, what?"

_Only a little, a small microburst of power to do what we need, no more, no less. Place your palm on the frame._

Oscar frowned, but he didn't have another option. He pressed his good hand to the frame, right under the topmost hinge, and reached for that sensation, _perseverance_ , and touched the thing Oz called magic. His body tingled slightly, not the overpowering _hum_ of earlier, and he heard something shift. He tested the knob again, and it opened. Inside it was obvious that a chest had been blocking the door, shuddered across the room when the building tilted to one side, and the gravity of the slant kept it to the door. Now it was… Oscar frowned, tracing the drag mark. "I did that?"

_We did, yes._

Oscar shook his head. "It's not _we_ ," he corrected.

There was another pause, and even though Oz wasn't saying anything Oscar could still feel the sting of rejection. This was going to get old very fast, if every little thing Oscar said hurt Oz in some way - he wasn't even saying anything bad!

Oscar stepped into the apartment proper. The hiss was much more obvious, anyone could hear it, and somehow his eyes knew immediately where to look - the main wet wall, tracing the lines of the kitchenette (what was left of it, the cabinets unmoored from their fastenings and crumpled in jagged wooden splints) to where the stove was - or should have been. The appliance was several feet away, shifted like everything else when the building was hit by the collapse right next to it, and there the pipe was. Oscar covered his mouth, the room smelt of the gas, and he moved closer, holding his breath as he looked for the emergency valve and twisted it shut.

_Now, open a window, and leave the door open. We need to air the place out._

Oscar followed instructions: the door was already open but he had to work the window. That was harder, it was locked in place by years of never being opened, it needed oil to be loosened and Oscar didn't know where to find any. His fingers were numb, he had to pull off a glove to get anything resembling sensation to see if his work was doing any good. Was he going to have to break the window? He considered reaching for the magic again, but he didn't want Oz saying "we" again, and he settled for brute force: getting the cane and using it as a lever to finally creak open the window. The blast of cold air from outside made him realize he had some warmth inside the room, and he mourned its loss. Blankets, he needed blankets.

He searched the one room apartment and found what he needed in a closet, grabbing four blankets of varying colors and patterns and shrugged them around his shoulders with one hand. The weight felt good, and he put another blanket over his head and sniffled.

_Rest now, Oscar, we can close the apartment up in a few hours._

"But the Grimm…"

 _Can't sense any fear in us_.

That was all the permission Oscar needed, as his body finally gave out.

* * *

He woke hours later feeling like he was rising from the dead. He was in a cocoon of warmth, the blankets were doing their job, but his side was _on fire_ , his nose was still running from the cold and he was utterly _miserable_. His stomach was cramping, a sign of how hungry he was, and his mouth was so dry it felt like cotton. He didn't relish the idea of eating snow to hydrate. That was how people did it up here, right?

 _Not exactly._ Mirth, enjoyment.

Right. The wizard was back.

Oscar tried to roll over in his blankets, and that sent _red lava_ through his side and he groaned, holding still instead. Wasn't his aura supposed to heal this?

 _It is_ , Oz replied, _your bones are knitting back together, that's why it hurts so much._

"Wonderful," he muttered. He closed his eyes, mentally prepping himself to sit through the misery. Just behind him, he could feel Oz, all empathy and deep understanding, the sense that he had been through this many, _many_ times.

Oscar took a deep breath - as deep as he could, anyway - held a debate in his head: he was trapped for who knew how long, waiting for his aura to stitch his side back together and then project so he wouldn't feel the tundra's cold. Should he sit in silence, or have a very awkward conversation with the guy who was going to take over? Oz had tried twice now to start a conversation by offering a detail about himself. The wizard wanted to say something, but kept backing down when Oscar put him off. Should he listen to what Oz had to say? Would it be another lie?

But that was the thing: things were weird with Oz back. Different. The distance between them had shrunk again, Oscar could feel so many smaller nuances and gestures - it felt like Oz was right at his shoulder instead of a tiny corner of his head. That was scary, because the merger was still happening and Oscar _did not want it_ , but Oz talked about still being Ozpin, and that was complicated and Oscar didn't know how to feel about it and…

"Why'd you come back?" he asked.

_I suppose the simplest explanation is you inspired me._

Oscar opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling and its spidered cracks. "Inspired?" By what? His absolute failure to keep the relic? His utter disaster in trying to keep Ja-Ironwood from making a terrible decision?

 _No, from watching you_ try.

Oscar shook his head. "I don't understand."

_Oscar, my entire incarnation was spent trying to avoid hard decisions. I didn't think that at the time, of course; self-deception is something of a specialty, but seeing you learn the duty placed on you, even the darkest secret, and still decide to do your best… How could I have done any less?_

Oscar mulled that over, trying to break down the words and piece it back together and unable to do so. "You've been around forever," he said, unsure how to finish the sentence.

 _Oz has been around for centuries, yes,_ Oz said, _But_ I've _only been around for just over four decades before my passing._ Oscar could feel a shift, almost like a hand being placed on the small of his back, small, reassuring circles. _All of us come from different backgrounds, different upbringings, different dreams and goals and pursuits. When we reincarnate, when each of us finally comes to terms with the curse, we each decide how to pursue and achieve the duty. Our engineer Ozair created Atlas as inspiration for the defeated Mantle. Ozymondias sought to end all war so that she would have no advantage to press. As for me…_

His voice trailed off, and Oscar could feel the self-loathing again, the self hatred. But even that was different - not muted, per se, but contextualized, considered. Self… acceptance? Maybe?

 _I thought that becoming headmaster would be the greatest use of my experience and skill,_ Oz… Ozpin?, said. _If I could teach future huntsmen and huntresses, guide them and show them the brightest parts of humanity, then they in turn could better guard against her forces._

 _I was lying to myself,_ Ozpin said.

"Ironwood," Oscar said, "He said that you were all bark and no bite."

Ozpin didn't respond, but Oscar could almost hear a warm chuckle, the sensation of agreement with the sentiment.

His side pulsed and he scrunched his eyes closed, waiting for the pain to subside. "Why did he do that?" he asked, the memories drifting over his mind's eye as he held the pain. "He said he was tired of people getting in the way of what's right."

 _James… the General was like that even when I introduced him_ , Ozpin replied, soft sadness in every vowel. _He thought my bringing him in meant he had passed some kind of test, that he had proven to someone, somewhere, that he did, indeed, make the right decisions. He… kept me on my toes._

Oscar winced, not from the healing ribs. He could feel a hundred images there, meetings, conversations, off-hand comments. He knew he would get more details if he thought about it, and that scared him. A lot. He shifted, uncomfortable in his own body. The numb chill had faded, now he felt like he was sweating. A fever? He moaned at the thought.

" _My friends call me James. To you, it's General._ "

Cool hands that didn't exist pressed on his forehead, and in spite of himself he relaxed.

 _It will be okay,_ Ozpin said, voice gentle. _We've been through this before, we'll no doubt go through this again. Just breath._

"Please," he whispered. "It's not we."

_If it's not "we" then it's "I", and that's horrifying for everyone involved. "We" implies that we are separate, that even as we merge we are our own people. It… it helped me when I went through this._

The cool hand drifted to a cheek, and a separate hand, still cool, pressed against his injured side. There was no pressure, the sensation was all in his head, but the chill radiated out, and Oscar felt… his body relaxed, and he felt less uncomfortable. Ozpin kept talking, soft sentences that didn't really mean anything, and Oscar felt like he was held, like his Aunt used to when he first lived there. There was comfort, and whatever his opinion of Oz he needed it, and he leaned into it.

It wasn't until a hot tear rolled down the side of his face into his hairline that he realized he was crying, and Ozpin just hummed and cooed, a father to his son, easing his pain.

* * *

"... Why are you doing this?" Oscar asked, some time later.

 _Because we are finally close enough that you can feel this_ , Ozpin replied.

"No," Oscar said. "Why are you answering my questions?" That was the difference. No more _all in due time_ , no more dodging or obfuscated answers. Ozpin just… answered, without artifice. He even volunteered information. The boundaries… they were closer now, yes, but the walls Oz put between them were gone, too, and Oscar wasn't sure how to take it.

_It's a simple answer, really. You know all my secrets now. You know how weak I am, and how far I fell, and how often I've failed. We've failed. Over and over. I am unworthy for the task I was given, right from the very start. There's nothing left to hide._

Oscar… it hurt to hear. Not the words, per se, but the unclouded _honesty_. All the defenses were gone, all the deflections, diversions. Oz, Ozpin, he admitted his inadequacy, and Oscar didn't know how to reply to it. He was used to Oz being this… this… thing beyond understanding, a voice in his head that always knew what to do, where to go, what was happening to Oscar as the merger continued, why people did what they did. Even when Oscar slowly started to realize that Oz was a little broken, it was… distant. Like it was someone else. The surreality of having a voice in his head made it all _less real_.

Now, though. The self-effacing honesty, did people talk like this? Just… admit their darkest flaws, no artifice, and confess their weaknesses to others? Oscar had admitted his fear before - to Ruby, in Mistral - but that had been under days of stress, duress. Jaune admitted his mistake - _after_ they had all thought Oscar had run away. Even Oz, they had to drag the idea of Grimm being attracted to the relics, drag the reason why he said what he did about Lionheart. Now he said these things - things that would be impossible to admit - without even blinking.

"You seem different," he said, unsure how else to word his thoughts.

 _I suppose I am,_ Ozpin said, sounding wistful.

"You said… you said you avoided hard decisions."

_Yes._

"Then," Oscar pursed his lips, wanting to ask the hardest question. If Ozpin could admit his weaknesses, Oscar had to do the same. "What was the hardest decision for you?"

A pause drew out, Oscar could almost feel a thoughtful frown, a sifting of memory. _There were so many,_ he admitted. _The hardest was what to tell them, what orders to give. The most personal was every time one of them admitted their faith in me, and I was too weak to tell them it was misplaced._

The honesty again. "Did you ever plan on telling them?"

_… No._

That hurt all over - not just Oscar but Oz, too.

 _The closest I ever came_ , Oz said, and Oscar could feel how raw Oz was to admit this. _The closest I ever came was imagining what it would be like to tell Qrow. He believed in me more than anyone, and he deserved to know. They all did. But I have never once told someone that truth and not have… not have things end badly for me._

So many things flooded Oscar he was overwhelmed, and he felt the cool hands withdraw, Oz pulling back. Oscar tried to process the sensations - betrayal, betrayal, _betrayal_ , so many betrayals… literal stabbing in the back, switching sides, rebellion, poison, everything Oscar could imagine. His breathing was ragged as he worked through the well of emotion, his side was on fire again, there were tears in his eyes again and he knew they weren't his own this time. Slowly the sensations faded as Oz withdrew, and he took several minutes to calm down.

"How…?" he asked, tried to take a breath. He could breathe deeper now, his aura was doing what it was supposed to. "How do you keep going?" All that hurt, all that _pain_ …

The cool hands returned to his forehead again, touching his injured side.

 _Sometimes I don't,_ Oz said, voice gentle, at his ear. _Sometimes I spent entire incarnations in the place of No Mind, unwilling to face the world._

"But you always come back," Oscar said, pulling a hand up to his side, trying to touch the hand that was holding him so gently. "How did you do that?"

 _… Because no matter how unworthy_ I _am, humanity is worth saving._

Oscar's eyes snapped open. What…?

_The gods, when they return, will either destroy us or live among us. We do not deserve to be destroyed. We hurt each other, yes, we betray each other, we abuse each other._

_But we also help each other. We befriend each other. We stand by each other. Even something as small as trying and giving one's all, in spite of the odds, will be enough to draw me back._

Perseverance. Even when he felt like giving up, Oz still found a reason to go on. Still found a way to get up. The magic…

"I'm touching you, aren't I?" Oscar said. "When I use magic."

 _Yes_.

Hmm. That was… good.

"I'm… I'm sorry," Oscar said. His eyes traced the ceiling again, and he found himself wishing he could see Ozpin, know what he looked like. "I'm sorry about Jinn. I wasn't trying to hurt you like that. I didn't know… all of that."

 _How could you if I never told you?_ Ozpin countered. Oscar could hear a sigh. _The hardest part of reincarnation is knowing what to say when. No one can absorb all of this in one fell swoop - especially a child. Some things shouldn't be learned through the merger, but some things can't be expressed until we are closer. I rushed with you, never gave you time to understand it all - and worse I took over when I most likely didn't need to._

"No," Oscar found himself saying. He closed his eyes, tried to touch the hand on his ribs again, tried to squeeze it. "I didn't listen to you. Not really. All I could think about was going away - it's still all I think about - but because of that I didn't really _hear_ you, when you said you understood. I think… I don't think I really _saw_ you. As a person, I mean."

_… I don't blame you._

Oscar shook his head. "You should," he insisted. "This isn't all on you - that's the whole point, right? He said you would never be alone. But somewhere along the way, you were alone anyway, and I just… I reinforced that. And I shouldn't have. It was wrong, what I did. It was just as wrong as… as... " He winced, almost didn't say it. "It was just as wrong as when you took over."

There. He'd said it. He'd admitted it. He let out a jagged breath, hadn't realized he'd been holding it, trying to force himself to acknowledge how wrong that day in the snow was. Necessary? Probably. Right? _Absolutely not._ His ribs flared again, and being curled in the blankets was suddenly too much, too confining. He was suffocating, and he finally engaged his core and sat up, pulling some of them off. Oscar focused on breathing, in and out, and held his head in his hands. His head spun in doing so, his hunger hadn't exactly disappeared.

Still, he took a breath and detangled his legs from the patchwork of blankets, forcing himself to stand. His vision darkened when he did, and he tilted dangerously on a floor that was already tilted, but it faded away and he put one foot in front of the other, walking up to the cabinets of the kitchenette with its detached stove and gas pipe. The air was frigid now that he'd left the warmth of the blankets, but it didn't bother him as much. He opened the cabinets and found dishware: cups, glasses, plates, cutting boards. He opened the lower cabinets and found cookware: pots, pans, cast iron ovens. Perturbed, he straightened and looked around. Where was the food if it wasn't in a cabinet?

Oscar put a hand on his side - it still hurt like crazy, but it wasn't hot lava anymore, and his eyes drifted around the apartment. Most of the furniture was piled to the side, where the tilt of the building had shoved it: a couch, low tables and two chairs. The closet where he'd found the blankets, and a second door, probably to the lav. He moved over to it anyway, twisted it open. It wasn't a lav but a pantry, boxed cereals and cans of instant soup - perfect. He went for the cereal and froze.

Pyrrha…

Her face was on the box, smiling.

At his shoulder was Oz, he could sense the thought of reaching out, and Oscar did so, taking a gloved hand and tracing along the side of her cheek.

 _She knew what it was like_ , Oz, Ozpin, said. _To be on a pedestal. And still she chose to be a maiden._

There were echoes in Oscar's mind, sitting in an office and watching the girl on the box talk about a fairy tale, looking out across a wide space - a courtyard? Beacon, then - and run towards him, a soft,

_"I need to hear you say it."_

_"Yes."_

His eyes watered, and it had nothing to do with him. "This is why," he said, voice rough. "This is why Jaune was so mad. He blamed you."

_He's not wrong._

" _I need to hear you say it._ "

Oscar shook his head. "He was _totally_ wrong," he hissed. "You gave her a choice. You gave her every out, you asked for _consent_ -"

" _You never talked much about the whole reincarnation thing, Oz, but I remember you saying it took a while before you had permission to talk._ "

His gaze snapped up from the box, realizing a whole new facet to the man at his shoulder. His looked over his shoulder, where he was sure Oz was, but still there was nothing. "You really do wait…" he muttered, unable to really put it into words. His hands lowered, the box numbly falling out of his hands, the revelation sweeping over him in stages.

_Oscar…?_

"You wait for permission," Oscar said, trying to even _conceive_ what this kind of life would be like. "You really wait to be allowed to do anything…" What was that even like? To go through the motions of life, only ever taking action when someone else asked permission - when someone agreed to do as he said, when someone _allowed_ him to do whatever it was when he thought he was right. It wasn't that he was avoiding hard decisions - it was that he wouldn't _let_ himself do anything until he had a grant to do so. How could anyone live like that? Oscar couldn't imagine how hard it would be to _deliberately do nothing_ like that, to withhold any action until someone told him _yes_ , do this or that.

 _It's not like that,_ Oz said, sensing Oscar's thoughts. _Choice is something very, very dear to me. I need to hear people make a choice. I need to know that, armed with all the information I can give, that they still choose to take up the fight._

"But it hurts you so much," Oscar said. "How many incarnations did you go through where no one allowed you to speak like I did?"

_That's different. We're partners, we have to work out our problems because we have no choice but to be together. It simply makes sense to wait until my partner gives consent._

Oscar shook his head, looking down at the cereal box, at the smiling girl. "But that meant you were gagged for _years_ , entire incarnations. How could you live like that?"

 _Because it was_ their _decision._

"But it affected you negatively! It actively hurt you! How are you okay with that?"

Ozpin didn't answer for a long, long time. Then,

_Because it was their choice._

"But you have a choice too," Oscar said.

_I've never had a choice._

The brutal honesty of that statement pulled the strength out of Oscar legs, and he fell to his knees, Pyrrha still looking up at him on the stupid cereal box. His side pulsed, and he held it tight. Oz didn't put a hand there, and Oscar could feel hesitation, anxiety - almost fear. Did Oz think Oscar was going to turn on him again? No… "No, you don't understand," he said, and his breath was short and almost ragged. His entire world view was shifting and he couldn't believe how _wrong_ he had been. "I'm so angry," he said, staring down at Pyrrha. "You said she was on a pedestal. That _you_ were on a pedestal. I don't know what that's like, I can't even imagine how it would be to have people to look to you for answers…"

" _... Do you believe in me?_ "

Oscar winced. "I'm not comfortable with people looking for answers from me," he corrected. "It hurt, because I had to say the right thing to make it better."

" _Then you're just as bad as she is, James._ "

"And I couldn't make it better." The admission was hard. He had to pull it out of himself, and he marveled that Oz was still making these kinds of statements so _casually_. "I don't want to be on a pedestal again - I don't understand how anyone would want it. But you do it over and over."

_I've never wanted to be-_

"I know," Oscar said, staring at the cereal box. "That's what makes it so hard, because you do it anyway. You get back up on that pedestal every time, even when it hurts you, even when you know it will end badly, you keep doing it, because… because…"

_Because humanity deserves my very best._

"Because humanity deserves your very best."

They said it at the exact same time, and it startled Oscar, sent a bolt of energy down his spine and fired his nerves. His mind was racing, remembering his rush to see Ironwood, to try and help his friend and keep the people of Mantle and Atlas safe - how many times had Oz done something similar? How many times had he put up with silence, or betrayal, or something worse? Was that why he left that day in the snow - had he feared Oscar would never let him speak again and just…

 _No,_ Oz said, and there was a tenor in his tone, something Oscar hadn't heard before. _That day, I bowed to my weakness. As I said, you inspired me to act._

Oscar shook his head. "It's more than that," he said. "You have to see that, right? You weren't bowing to weakness, you were finally protecting yourself after… wait, how long were you just letting people hurt you like that? Without saying anything?"

No answer. He couldn't remember.

Oscar ran to the lav and was immediately sick to realize the hard truth.

_I'm sorry…_

"No, stop being sorry," Oscar said, finally able to string two thoughts together. "That has to stop. You can't take the blame for every little thing. You did some things wrong, but you shouldn't be torn to shreds for it. It's okay for the other guy to be wrong. _Leo was wrong._

"... _I_ was wrong…"

 _Oscar_ , he said, voice gentle. Two hands were on his shoulders, comforting squeezes that weren't there. Oscar could feel him, at his back, and it wasn't scary; it was _warm, soft_ , calling back to dim memories of his childhood, being held. _Oscar, you can't be blamed. It's only natural for someone to react as you did when I join them. Everyone does, everyone has. That's no reason-_

"Stop doing that," Oscar said, looking up to the mirror, seeing only his own reflection and wishing so badly he could see Oz. "Stop _forgiving_ everyone."

_But…_

" _No_ ," Oscar insisted, shaking his head. He put a hand on his shoulder, trying to squeeze the one that wasn't there again, wanting Oz - _Ozpin_ \- to _understand_. "Not everyone is worth forgiving. It doesn't matter if it's natural, or if it can be explained, or if some terrible thing happened to make them this way - that shouldn't excuse _what they do_. Do you forgive _Salem_ for everything she's done? I don't care if you're _sad_ for her, but do you _forgive_ her?"

 _No_. And that was the clearest, firmest, _coldest_ he'd ever heard Ozpin before.

"It's the same thing," Oscar said, looking at his reflection. "If she can't be forgiven, no matter how sad her story is, then there are others, too. Leo. James. _Me_."

And he was hugged. Nothing changed, looking in the mirror, but all the same the arms wrapped around him, and there was a squeeze, and a weightless weight on his shoulder was everything he had ever received from his aunt and more, thousands of years of loving children and having children condensed in one father's hug to a different son, and emotionally Oscar was flooded with _validation_. And it was over something so _small_ , Oscar hadn't even started to make up for all the mistakes he'd made since Ozpin came to join him.

(And it was only now that he realized how poorly he'd treated someone who always called him a partner.)

"Oz," he said, and his eyes were moist again. He looked in the mirror, and he held out his hand. "I want to work with you again. I consent to you being my partner."

It was a trick of the light, perhaps, the way the sun filtered from the other side of the apartment, but Oscar's hair looked almost white in the mirror, and there was a smile there that he didn't think was his. Ozpin put his hand in Oscar's, and there was _light harmony warmth validation honor strength unity revelation…_

Oscar… Ozpin… Oz, turned around. His side didn't hurt anymore. He went back into the apartment and bent down, tracing his fingers over the cereal box. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll keep fighting." He tore open the box and consumed the empty calories inside. Then he moved to the window, opening it again, knowing where he had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As dearly as we love team RWBY, we desperately, desperately, want Volume 8 to be the Ozpin and Oscar show. They are perfectly poised to push and learn so much from each other, and this fic was one possible incarnation of that. These two need to talk, really talk - as equals. Oz can do it now, since he doesn't have any more secrets to hid, but Oscar has to put aside his resentment of Oz (we see him as being resentful - there was so much resignation when he says "you're back, aren't you" that we read from the line) and see him as more than just a voice in his head. We want them to get a long so badly, and he haven't yet, but when they do imagine what they could do!
> 
> Anyway, we're rambling. The chapter kinda speaks for itself. We hope you enjoyed.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Back From the Future](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251431) by [phoenixqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixqueen/pseuds/phoenixqueen)




End file.
